


Poker Face

by alexaveil



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth Deserves a Raise, Batboys are so precious, Bruce Wayne is a sucker for a bad girl, DC comics - Freeform, F/M, Slow Burn, Teenaged Bruce & Oliver get drunk too often, justice league - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29174694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexaveil/pseuds/alexaveil
Summary: Most of Bruce Wayne's problems were either solved with his wallet or his fists. But the look that she gave him couldn't be solved with either- face like stone and her stature unwavering. However, he read the teasing message in her eyes loud and clear:"I know something you don't."Which is possibly the worst thing you could say to a man with the title "the World's Greatest Detective."
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Original Character(s), Bruce Wayne/Original Female Character(s), Oliver Queen & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 47
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

Bruce Wayne did not get nervous.

He'd seen too much. He'd experienced too much. He'd walked and crawled and _fought_ through life without so much as a complaint. He didn't ask for praise, or for thanks. For any type of credit. He was wordless _._

Sitting in the silence was a clear space for him to control his emotions. To squash down nervousness, fear, despair, hopelessness: the logical human reactions to the terrors he faced. To burn them until there was nothing left but dry, heaving anger— that made him feel powerful. It made him feel _inhumane_. A god among men, as the tabloids liked to plaster all over the news.

But, there was one thing. _Just one_. It was so insignificant, so inconsequential. One small thing that gave him a queasy pit in his stomach which went against everything he portrayed himself to be.

He tried everything to get rid of it. His usual approach of being trapped in his thoughts until he rationalized why he felt anything but indifferent, failed. He turned to Tibetan mediation from his weeks with the Shaolin monks. Fail. He internally chastised himself countless times, externally took it out on low-life thugs, and reminded himself that, frankly, _it just wasn't a big deal._

Nothing worked. It didn't matter what he did or how he did it. He couldn't control it. Bruce wasn't an idiot, and even though he had rightfully earned himself the label, "World's Greatest Detective," he could still take things at face value.

With boiling irritation, he chalked up the uneasy feeling to one thing: nervousness.

The elevator doors slid open with a cheerful ding, ringing in his ears against the otherwise deafening silence. He was greeted by the usual red-haired woman at a desk, who gave him a warm grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. _Janette_ , he's fairly sure her name was. He fixed his suit jacket with a cool smile as he stepped into the long hallway.

"Mr. Wayne." Her tone was smooth and monotone as she unabashedly raked his figure, landing on his silver watch. Greed flickered in her weathered eyes before she took a deep breath and looked back up at him. "Ms. Elias is ready whenever you are. Can I interest you in a tea before you go in? Chamomile— _relaxes the nerves_. We could get to know each other better."

Bruce was aware her intentions were obviously on his money, but the choice of words made him apprehensive. He was a good actor— it probably should've been his career, if he had chosen a more... _traditional_ path in life— so knew his underlying stress wasn't showing. However, the inner detective in the back of his head suggested that somehow the woman could still sense it.

He gave her a fake chuckle, the one he used when clinking champagne glasses with fellow socialites. "I actually had some just before I got here. Thank you though, Janette. You're always so very _kind_ when I come in."

The woman's pale skin flushed pink and she looked back down at her computer. He took that as his signal to walk to the room at the end of the hall.

By rough calculations, it was only around thirty feet long. That distance would hardly take his confident strides more than a few seconds to close, yet for some reason, it felt like an eternity. The door was open ahead of him, revealing the end of the conference table and a large window behind it. The hallway was illuminated in a faded orange glow from the approaching dusk, almost seeming hellish.

Ironic, considering he had once quite literally walked himself into the doors of Apokolips to save Superman from the hands of Darkseid.

Bruce reached the entrance to the room. He took in the only figure occupying the seat at the head of the table. She didn't look up or even address him, too busy writing something down on a stack of papers in front of her. He took his usual place at the opposite end.

The black chair made a rustling noise as he settled into it. The air was thick and heavy with the weight of unspoken words; there was more hanging in the room besides business than either of them cared to admit. Instead, he opted to focus on the only sound present: the ticking of the clock on the wall.

He glanced over momentarily. _5:10_. As long as this took their usual thirty minutes, he should still have time to pick up Damian from his extracurriculars at the Academy, change into his suit, and arrive early to the League meeting.

When he looked back, brief panic shot through him. He had to will his brows not to raise, a habit he'd developed from the luxury of mystery that his cowl afforded him. Electric blue eyes stared at him, seeming to almost carve into his chest, pull out whatever emotion he had left, and drop it onto a silver platter on the table. Other than that, her face was unreadable and void of any indication as to why she would've called him here.

He would never give Meredith Elias any compliments, but if he did, it would be that she had a _damn good_ poker face.

"Wayne."

He was grateful for the way his name cut through the almost unbearable silence. He never preferred conversation, but for once, that was easier than sitting here with his thoughts. In the Elias Inc. boardroom, the quiet was not his friend.

A feeling of relief washed over him as he leaned back into the chair with a calm smile.

"Meredith." He kept his tone light, airing more on the side of playboy instead of businessman. He knew it would annoy her. _Small victories_.

Her expression didn't change. She then cleared her throat, clasped her hands on the table, and leaned in.

The feeling of uneasiness was back. Bruce could read between the lines— she wanted something. A part of him was hoping this would be about Wayne Aerospace again; they currently owned twenty percent of Lockheed Martin's weapons division compared to Elias Inc.'s thirteen, and he knew Meredith was vying for more.

"I hate rumors," she began, which immediately let him know this had nothing to do with aerospace. Warning lights fired in his brain at the unusual statement— Bruce had already planned about ten different ways this conversation could've gone, but this wasn't one of them.

"Operating on anything other than fact is an amateur move, you and I both know that."

Her gaze was unwavering as she paused.

"However, rumor has it that you have a stake in the Justice League."

He internally froze, but the smile didn't slip from his face. Was she accusing him of something? Probably not, he knew Meredith had no interest in knowing the identities of any of the Leaguers, much less Batman. Not that he doubted she couldn't figure them out if she wanted to.

He chose his words carefully. "Hearsay ruins businesses."

She rolled her eyes, and he couldn't say he wasn't somewhat shocked at her blatant display of emotion. "Queen told me that he has a stake, so there's absolutely _no way_ that you don't."

Irritation— the usual feeling he associated with Star City's resident vigilante— arose in his chest. _Of course he would have told her._

"And you trusted Oliver Queen as a reliable source of information?"

"He owes me a favor."

The tone of her voice said that the topic was clearly not up for discussion, so he decided not to dwell on it. "Why would I care what Oliver Queen does?"

"Oh, _please,_ " she unclasped her hands, reaching for the manila folder on top of the stack of papers in front of her and sliding it down the table. "I've cross-checked records— whatever you seem to do Queen follows in suit. You both send the same total of payments to an undisclosed offshore account which none of my people can trace back."

Bruce eyed the papers which had come to a halt just within his reach. He opened the folder and scanned the numbers printed on the chart, which aligned Olivers' and his usual League fundings. So she _had_ done her research.

He didn't take his eyes off the paper as he flipped to the next page. "How did you get these?"

"Queen owed me a _very_ big favor."

Rage simmered inside of him. He would've preferred anyone else to be having this conversation with. Meredith was smart. Bruce begrudgingly gave her that. When he first appeared as Batman, she was the one person he wanted to keep very, _very_ far out of the loop. She would be the one to figure out who he really was, and she would also be the one to exploit it for her own personal gain.

Assessing the situation, he realized he didn't have many options.

_Oliver Queen and his big mouth._

He looked up, closing the folder and tossing it back to the center of the table. Her face hadn't changed, but this time her eyes held a smirk. An image of her sitting across from him at sixteen with a Monopoly board between them burned in his mind. She wore the same expression she did now. It was usually right before she beat him.

"And let's say I _did,_ " he presented. "What use would it be to you?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" She gave an emotionless chuckle.

_"I want in."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! A lot of people have been requesting that I post my Wattpad works here on ao3, so I decided to give it a shot. I'll try to get them all posted soon, but in the meantime, you can find all of my other stories on Wattpad under alexaveil. Hope you're enjoying this so far!
> 
> xo Alexa
> 
> Note: This story will incorporate a few different Batman storylines, but I mostly pictured DCAU Batman while writing this (because he’s hot oops)


	2. Chapter 2

"What did he say?"

A sip of hot tea.

"What do you _think_ he said?"

The blond-haired man grimaced slightly. "That bad, huh?"

"Not that I was expecting anything different, anyway." Meredith rolled her eyes. "Like there was _ever_ a chance he was letting me get that leg-up on him."

The man stared at her, almost seeming nervous under her gaze as he fidgeted with the button on his suit jacket. She narrowed her eyes. She'd known Oliver for years, and there were very few things that ever got that reaction out of him.

"What's your damage, Mare? Your company is booming, revenue at an all-time high, you're top ten on _Forbes_ for Christ's sake— why do you even _need_ moremoney?"

She scoffed. "It's not _about_ the money, Oliver. If Elias Incorporated is seen being partnered with the Justice League, do you know what that's going to for my reputation? Especially after the whole 'exploding laptops' debacle a few months ago, my market value dropped two percent and I need it back."

"So, you're essentially only showing up for the good graces?"

"Precisely."

He looked exasperated, running a hand through his hair as he swiveled his chair around and stared out the window of his office. The Queen Industries tower— although she would never admit it— was one of her favorite company buildings in terms of style. His office was big and warmly lit, with oak wood tables and soft carpets. Behind him was a birds-eye view of the entire Star City skyline.

"I think you're chasing a lost cause."

Meredith went silent. Usually, Oliver was in support of her business expenditures, calling her on late nights to find out what happened to whatever deal she had brokered. This particular one was involving the _Justice League,_ with high-flying heroes and men who could outrun race cars. She'd figured that Oliver would've been all over her to get a part in it.

"Weren't _you_ the one who said that I always get what I want?" She took another sip of the hot tea one of his assistants had brought in.

He swiveled back around. "Yeah, but—"

"Then I don't see how this is a _lost cause."_

"—you don't get it! It's _different_ this time. This isn't your typical, rich CEO shmuck," he explained. "It's _Batman_. And no offense, but that's a little out of your league."

She glared at him. "And it's in _yours?_ How did you even get a stake, anyway?"

"That's... not important. Listen—"

"Wait, you never _actually_ told me," she said, realization dawning on her. She set down her glass. "How exactly _did_ you get in?"

He froze and his face went blank. She could tell a thousand thoughts were running through his mind. He looked exasperated again.

"Mare, I already paid off my debt to you with those numbers. I don't owe you anything else."

"Then don't consider it work-related. It's just a conversation between two old friends."

"Meredith..." he said warningly. She could read his unspoken plea not to press any further.

"Oliver..."

He sighed, and silence fell over the room before he spoke again. He stopped playing with his jacket button and rested his head in his hand, almost looking guilty.

"I... have a connection."

"Which is?"

"Just someone I know."

"A name would be helpful."

There was another long, heavy stillness.

"Green Arrow."

She couldn't help the look of utter confusion that washed over her features. She had anticipated a lot of names, but not quite that one.

"Excuse me?"

He groaned, his head falling on his shoulder. "C'mon, don't make me say it again."

 _"Green Arrow,"_ she repeated slowly in slight disbelief. "As in, the vigilante?"

He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "How many 'Green Arrows' do you know?"

 _"He_ got you in?"

Oliver didn't respond, not meeting her gaze.

"How do you even know him?"

His head snapped back to her and he narrowed his eyes.

Meredith put her hands up in mock defense, deciding it was best to not press. "Alright... so you're telling me that the only way to get in is by resident city hero endorsement?"

"Meredith—"

"Does that mean _Wayne knows Batman?"_

"Jesus, Meredith! How much more do you want me to tell you? My social security? Bank account password?" he asked, obviously agitated. "What Bruce does isn't my business, and it isn't yours. Can we just drop this now?"

She sat back in the brown leather chair and stared past Oliver out into the city. There were a few beats of quiet before the blond groaned.

"I don't like that. That's your 'I'm about to do something that Oliver isn't gonna be okay with' face." He paused and inspected her. "Oh, _please_ do not tell me you're going to go find Batman."

"God no," she scoffed. "I have no interest in that _creep_. I saw him briefly once and that's more than I need for a lifetime."

"Then what are you going to do? And don't say nothing, because I know that's a lie."

Her mind was racing and she let a light smirk tug at the corner of her lip. She met his green eyes, which were filled with too many emotions that Meredith didn't have the time to make out.

"Absolutely _nothing."_

She suddenly stood up from her chair and started towards the massive wooden doors.

"Don't do anything stupid, Mare," Oliver called.

She turned around as she pushed the door open, a smirk still on her face. She raised an eyebrow. _"Me?_ Stupid? Who do you take me for? Bruce Wayne?"

He couldn't help the grin that spread his lips. Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to his computer. He and Meredith always shared a love of sticking it to Bruce.

"Good luck," he added, before lowering his voice just to himself. "Not like you'll need it."

And with that, the doors slammed shut.

* * *

The smell of brewed coffee and paper filled the halls of the Daily Planet. The mid-day Metropolis light shined through the tall windows surrounding the entire work floor, somehow amplifying the sound of ringing phones, low voices, and clacking keyboards.

As per usual, Lois was on another one of her Wednesday morning rants.

"I'm telling you, Smallville," she spouted. "It would be my next Pulitzer if only the stupid governor would get his head out of his ass and answer my question!"

Clark stared at the woman sympathetically, offering her a small smile which he knew she was too irritated to notice. As she continued to talk, he took in the angered redness on her cheeks and the determined look in her eyes— call him cheesy, but he found it absolutely endearing.

Not like he ever had the guts to tell her that, of course.

She was interrupted by the buzzing of her phone on her desk. She glanced down in annoyance, rolling her eyes as she haphazardly picked it up and slammed the call button.

"What?" she demanded.

Although he could easily hear the conversation if he pleased, Clark was raised too much a gentleman to invade Lois' privacy, and instead settled on staring at her in curiosity. The woman's face slowly became shocked.

"Yes, this is her," she answered cautiously.

Clark had never seen Lois' expression change so quickly in such a short amount of time. Her eyebrows rose, immediately sitting up straighter in her chair and brushing the stray hair from her face.

"Ms. Elias!" she said excitedly, looking at Clark with surprise in her eyes. "How can I help you?"

More of the muffled voice ensued, along with another minute of Lois making noises in agreement and shaking her head enthusiastically. A wide grin then spread on her face, and Clark could've sworn his heart skipped a beat.

"Of course! That sounds fantastic. _A huh_... absolutely! I'll see you in a few hours then."

The second she ended the call, Lois was up and out of her chair, hastily grabbing her coat along with her purse.

Clark raised an eyebrow. "What was that all about?"

She turned to him with a look that definitely said she had forgotten that he was there. "Meredith Elias just called and said she wants an interview."

"Meredith Elias?" he repeated as he watched her grab the empty cup of coffee on her desk and toss it in the trash. "As in the Gotham billionaire?"

"Yes! Can you believe it? I've been trying to get a couple of questions in with her for _months,_ and she just calls me out of the blue? _And_ when I just _happen_ to need a new story?"

"Listen, Lois," he said, "I don't want to discourage you— I don't think I _could_ even if I did, but I've had a few run-ins with some of the big business owners up in Gotham, and randomly calling a reporter is not their typical MO."

She paused in the midst of putting her coat on. "I'm not an idiot, Clark. _Obviously,_ she's not calling for kicks— I'm just happy she decided to call _me."_

He shook his head with a small smile. Typical Lois, always wanting to get to the best story first.

"Do you need any help?" he offered.

"I've gotta run," she shook her head, starting toward the elevator across the room. "I have to be at Chez Metro in two hours. All expenses paid, courtesy of Meredith."

She threw him a wink before turning around and walking away.

"Later, Smallville!" she called over her shoulder, stepping into the elevator doors which had just opened, more of his fellow colleagues entering it as well.

He watched the metal doors close, gears spinning in his mind. Meredith Elias was a household name as far as the Daily Planet's journalists were concerned, so what could she possibly want with Lois?

He briefly wondered for a moment if it had something to do with Bruce since he was a fellow billionaire who had connections with Lois. He brushed the thought out of his head quickly. Although he didn't know much about the two billionaire's relationship, he'd heard of her reputation: intelligent, unrelenting, and always got what she wanted.

If Clark knew his best friend like he believed he did, then Bruce would _definitely_ not approve of her, most likely considering her a "threat" or something along those lines. He inwardly chuckled at the thought of Batman, the Dark Knight, and Protector of Gotham, being irked by the likes of Meredith Elias.

He was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by a startling voice.

 _"Kent!_ Is that slacking I see?"

Clark grimaced, swiveling back towards his computer and placing his hands on the keyboard. "Of course not, Perry."

"Good," his boss commented in a tone that meant it was anything but. "And since you're being _oh so_ productive today, I'm _sure_ you wouldn't mind filing these papers for me, would you?"

A massive stack was dropped on his desk, causing everything on it to slightly rattle, and Clark sighed.

It was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you all so much for the love on the last chapter, I honestly didn't think anyone would read this so fast haha. I'm trying to get as many of my chapters on here as possible! For those of you asking, my Wattpad is alexaveil.
> 
> xo Alexa


	3. Chapter 3

Oliver furrowed his brow in irritation. The steady sound of the blade he was currently using to sharpen his arrow tip distracted him from his annoyance. It was another weekly meeting— where the founders of the League met to discuss, in his opinion, pointless topics that didn't concern him. He was convinced they just forced him to come out of spite; if they had any problems with the funding they could easily just send the numbers to his office.

And as per usual, Batman was late.

The hum of the Hall of Justice generators served as ambient background noise, along with a conversation between Diana and Clark that he didn't bother to listen in on. The rest of the League sat around the circular table in various states of boredom, and Cyborg stood at the large computer in the front.

"You look distracted," their resident speedster noted from his spot next to the archer.

Oliver looked up at Barry. His red cowl was pulled off and hanging around the base of his neck, one hand behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. Oliver wasn't sure he owed him an explanation— he knew Barry was only asking because he had a hard time sitting still.

"It's nothin.' Just Bats." He rolled his eyes under his mask, taking comfort in the fact that no one could see him do so.

Barry put his arm down as he angled his body towards him. "Batman being late is hardly anything new."

Oliver ran his hands through his hair and down his face. He _really_ shouldn't be saying anything. Barry didn't have a place in the argument he was about to start with the Bat. "It's just... _Elias."_

Even though he muttered the last part, several ears around the room perked up at the mention of the name.

"Elias?" Cyborg questioned, not bothering to turn away from the massive screen. "As in Gregory?"

Oliver shook his head, crossing his arms on the table. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. "As in his daughter—"

"Oh _please_ don't say Meredith."

The archer glanced at the Man of Steel with curious eyes, matching the look at the rest of the table. He didn't get a chance to ask anything before the sound of sliding metal filled the room, and all heads darted towards the entrance. Batman stalked towards them, face expressionless as usual, blending in with the shadows of the room as his cape flowed behind him.

"You!" Oliver shouted, pushing his chair back and throwing an accusatory finger at the Dark Knight. _"You_ caused this."

"You'll have to be more specific." He sounded as he always did, cold and indifferent, making his way to the front of the room and standing next to Cyborg.

Oliver realized it was the reaction Bruce intended to get out of him, but he couldn't help the anger that flourished in his chest. "Does the name _Meredith Elias_ ring any bells?"

He watched the Bat pause momentarily while pulling up the holoscreens. It was a brief hesitation, but one that fueled his rage as it gave Oliver the answer he was looking for. Bruce knew _exactly_ what he was talking about.

"That's not my problem."

His mouth dropped. "Not your problem? This is nothing _but_ your problem!"

"Arrow, this is a League meeting, for League matters—"

"I don't give a damn _what_ this is!" The rising anxiety in his chest made him almost want to hurl, but he kept his voice steady. "She's _smart,_ Bruce. Youof all people know that. What? You think she's just gonna _buy_ the fact that I _happen_ to know Green Arrow? Things aren't going to add up forever!"

Silence.

"Whatever you decide to tell Elias is between you and her, not me."

Oliver was about ready to explode. Bruce was more than awarethat, if Meredith Elias came knocking on your door, you had to answer. There wasn't really an option.

"I didn't have a choice! And I was _hoping_ that you would've gotten over your _little problem_ and just given her some bullshit deal, which would keep her far enough away that it doesn't interfere with us. I guess I was _wrong."_

The look that he received from the man nearly made him shiver, but Oliver stood his ground.

"Meredith Elias will _not_ be getting a stake in the League. Too many variables to keep track of, too many potentials for leaks. That's final."

With a huff, Oliver shoved himself back down in his seat. He knew full-well why Bruce couldn't risk getting involved with her, but Oliver had figured that he, at the very least, wouldn't throw him under the bus.

Oliver tried to stop the words from flying out of his mouth. "You know if she figures out me, she's coming for _you."_

A pause.

"Which is why you're going to _drop it."_

His sharp tone quickly fell into Batman's growl, and the fact that Bruce didn't even try to deny the statement left no room for argument or debate. The shiver he had attempted to suppress ran down his spine. Oliver studied the man, trying to picture his face beneath the depths of the cowl. Dark blue eyes, black hair, and a strong brow. It kept his edging fear of the Dark Knight at bay— knowing that _somewhere,_ under all of the gloominess and brood, lied his old friend. Oliver simply scoffed, turning his head away.

"Um, would this be a bad time to mention that she's out with Lois right now?"

All eyes once again snapped back down towards the opposite end of the table. Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce was already ahead of him.

 _"What_ did you just say?"

Oliver cringed, not knowing exactly where this was headed, but that it probably wasn't going to end in his favor.

"She called Lois today," Clark explained. "I'm not sure what for, but Lois was ecstatic to finally hear back from her. I think they're at Chez Metro right now, actually."

Oliver's mind was running laps. What would Meredith want with _Lois?_ She hated the press more than anything, so Lois had to have something she wanted, or else Meredith wouldn't have called. He replayed their earlier conversation in his office, and her words rang in his head.

_"So you're telling me that the only way to get in is by resident city hero endorsement?"_

Then it clicked. As everything started to fall into place, the look on his face must've given him away.

There was silence.

"Arrow."

 _"Huh,"_ Oliver hummed, ignoring the obvious glare Bruce was giving him. He purposely didn't face the Dark Knight because he was fairly certain that, if they made eye contact, Oliver would drop dead on the spot.

"What exactly _did_ you tell her?"

"Well..." He couldn't help the nervous chuckle that rose in his throat, and immediately swallowed it back down. "I might've... _possibly_ lead her to believe that since I knew Green Arrow... you knew Batman? But she guessed it! I didn't know what to say! So—"

"Now she thinks that the only way to get into the League is through a member."

Oliver grimaced. "I guess they don't call you the World's Greatest Detective for nothing."

"Wait, wait." Green Lantern held his hands up, pausing the conversation. "I don't get it. _Why_ is it such a bad thing if she wants to talk to one of us? We talk to people all the time! Just have Bats find her, scare her off with his whole, _'I am the night'_ routine, and problem solved."

Oliver opened his mouth to provide an explanation but received a glowering stare from the Dark Knight. The archer read the unspoken message loud and clear: _say anything about it, and you're dead._ Oliver sighed. "It's... more complicated than that. You don't exactly 'scare off' Meredith Elias."

Hal passively waved his hand. "If Bats is too rainbows and unicorns for her, then just have Vic go! Turn on the light show, ya know, a little robot laser action, and—"

"I'm _not_ physically threatening her, Lantern," Cyborg interjected.

Diana then spoke up from her seat. "If we are assuming she wants to talk to a Leaguer, then why did she contact Lois and not Batman? He _is_ the resident hero of Gotham."

"She already believes Bruce Wayne knows Batman," Oliver explained. "Plus, she thinks he's a total creep. So the next logical choice for potentially getting a share of the League would be to—"

Bruce cut him off.

"She's going to Superman."

* * *

"Right this way, Ms. Elias." The Chez Metro waiter who was currently taking her to the table smiled. It was a fake grin— one perfectly plastered on his face— but his eyes looked petrified. She wanted to scoff. It was obvious that her reputation proceeded her, but it's _hardly_ like she was going to attack him in the midst of a sea of Metropolis socialites.

She nodded, returning the gesture as they walked around tables filled with wealthy businessmen and celebrities, some she recognized more than others. All eyes flickered to her as she passed them, hungry like vultures but disguising it with lifeless chuckles and ridiculously expensive glasses of champagne. Frivolous whispers erupted behind her, but she didn't bother to pay attention to them like she once would've.

They arrived at a table in front of a massive window, overlooking the Metropolis skyline that shimmered in the moonlight. It looked pretty and peaceful— not the view that she was used to from her Gotham office.

The black-haired woman who was already seated looked up, her face spreading into the first genuine grin of the night.

"Ms. Elias!" Lois Lane got out of her seat, extending her hand.

"Lois," Meredith gave her a rare smile, shaking it. "Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. And please, it's Meredith."

They both sat down at either end of the table, and the waiter handed them two menus before hurrying away. Meredith smoothed out the jacket of her white pantsuit, crossing her black stilettos beneath the table.

"Of course, _Meredith_. Thank you for offering to pay, by the way."

She waved her hand at the reporter, preparing the usual niceties that she didn't care to engage in, but knew was essential. "It's no trouble. How have you been doing these days? I believe the last time I saw you was at a charity function for Lexcorp."

Another man came to put two glasses of ice water on the table.

Lois picked one up, her nails painted a perfect shade of red. "I've been good. Busy. You know my life's always a little hectic. How about you?"

Meredith gave a chuckle, the one she used to charm bad business partners into good deals. "Good. _Busy_. The company, unfortunately, doesn't run itself."

Lois made a few more comments, something about how she "understood the struggle." Meredith nodded, feigning interest, but her mind was focused on the large window, hoping to catch a glimpse of something blue and red. Finally, the waiter appeared again, asking if they were ready to order. After they did so, they handed him their menus and he disappeared off into the crowd of tables.

"Let's cut to the chase," Meredith turned back to her. "And judging by the paper under your arm, I'm guessing you have some questions for me."

The journalist laughed, unveiling the notepad and a blue pen. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"Not much," Meredith commented lightly, crinkling the corners of her eyes.

"Well," Lois tapped her pen on the paper. "I guess I'll start with the most pressing question of the hour: sources reported Bruce Wayne walking into your office yesterday. Any chance we're finally seeing the long-awaited Elias Inc. and Wayne Enterprises reunion?"

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Her father Gregory Elias and Thomas Wayne used to be good friends— they combined a big part of their companies together, not quite a merger, but it might as well have been. It was almost a dynasty of sorts, meant to cleanse the city of its sins, and for a while, it actually worked. Crime rates went down, employment went up, and drug use started to become less frequent. But after the Wayne's passed, legal disputes between her father and the man running Wayne Enterprises at the time caused a split in most of their partnerships, and Gotham has long awaited the day when she and Bruce mended those burned bridges.

_Of course, that's the first thing Lois would care about._

She paused for a moment, carefully choosing her words. Lois usually never left any details to spare in her articles, and the Wayne/Elias company situation was tricky. If she was being honest, she would rather say to hell with Bruce and that she's better off on her own, but playing impartial was currently the best option. It was good to give the city some hope, even for a brief while.

"I don't think either me or Bruce are opposed to reuniting parts of our companies in the future," she began. "Our fathers obviously did a lot of good for the city, and I think I speak for both of us when I say that's definitely still one of our first priorities."

 _Ugh_. She hated giving Bruce good publicity.

"As of right now, that's not in our best interests, due to a lot of... _complicated_ legalities. But we are working our hardest to come to a solution that will benefit all parties."

Lois was silent for a moment, scribbling down on her notepad. "So... no?"

"Yesterday our meeting was nothing more than a few questions regarding financials," the lie glided off of her tongue like butter. She had always prided herself on being a good liar.

Lois nodded slowly. She then closed her notebook, putting her pen down. "And off the record?"

Meredith took a sip of her water, this time legitimately amused at the question.

"Wayne is a douchebag."

Lois let out a bold laugh, one that sounded foreign against the room full of teetering chuckles. They were interrupted by a waiter, one who gave a strange look to the reporter, before putting down two plates of food on the table. Either Lois didn't notice, or just didn't care. Meredith bit back a smirk— she could respect that. They both thanked him as they picked up their forks.

"So," Lois looked up at her. "What did you call me about?"

Meredith swallowed a bite of her potatoes, swirling another around in the rich sauce. "I want to talk to Superman."

The journalist paused mid-chew, her eyes widening slightly at the statement which had been spoken so casually.

"And you're the only person I know who has a direct connection to him."

The woman briefly seemed stunned. "What... exactly do you want to talk to him about? I mean, Superman can do a lot of things— I would know, he _has_ saved me from falling off a building more than once— but I don't think negotiating business deals is one of them."

"I," Meredith hesitated, leaning in and dropping her voice. The people in the room would be dying to catch a piece of their conversation. "I want to do business with the Justice League. I figured, what better way to do so than talking to Big Blue himself?"

Lois looked as if she was processing the information. "Why didn't you just go to Batman then? He's in your city."

She paused, weighing if it was smart to let Lois know more of what was going on. She seemed fairly trustworthy and was definitely a reputable reporter, and she obviously heard more news in one day than Meredith did in a week. Perhaps it was a good idea to keep her in the loop, just in case she knew anything.

"I think Wayne's already talking to him."

The reporter looked surprised. "How do you know?"

"Just a suspicion."

"Right..." Lois sounded unconvinced, tapping her fork softly on the side of her plate. "So, is this _really_ about League business? Or is this just about one-upping Bruce?"

Meredith narrowed her eyes.

Lois finished her food, placing her fork on the empty plate. "Not that I'm going to report it, but it doesn't exactly take a genius to see that you guys have some sort of... rivalry going on."

"Wayne's a moron," Meredith finally said. "Nothing more, nothing less. There's no rivalry— he just can't handle the fact that my share price has been higher than his for the last few months. But the Justice League is the most well-known organization in the world— _also_ making it the most profitable. If it's possible for me to have a stake in it, I want it."

That lie wasn't so smooth and didn't make her feel as cunning as her other ones did. No, it wasn't a rivalry. Or maybe it was. She didn't really know. It was... something. It was a complicated mess of history and money, that's what it _was_. Rivalry was just an easy umbrella term to throw around.

Their conversation was ended as Lois got a notification on her phone. A waiter came to clear their plates, and offered two of Chez Metro's world-class lava cakes, on the house per request of head chef Antonio, Meredith's good friend.

Meredith was about to take a bite from the rich dessert when she paused, noticing Lois' eyes widened at something behind her.

"Speak of the devil," the reporter muttered.

She didn't have time to question what that meant before two new figures appeared. Meredith turned her head up, only to find the perfectly slicked hair and sharp navy suit of none other than Bruce Wayne. He stared at her with a face so obviously fabricated it was almost formulaic— the corners of his mouth turned up in a sweet smile, but his eyes fell short of the pleasantry, instead hollow and cold.

She had finally found the fakest person in the room.

His eyebrows shot up, mouth parting slightly. "Meredith Elias? Lois Lane? What a coincidence seeing you two here."

 _Yeah, right._ Knowing Bruce, seeing him in the exact same place at the exact same time in an entirely different city wasn't _just a coincidence._

The person next to him was a blonde woman in a tight dress, who giggled at the sound of his voice, wrapping her hands tighter around his arm.

"Bruce," Lois smiled. "It's great to see you, too. It's been a while."

Meredith was silent, internally rolling her eyes as she turned her attention back to the piece of cake which hovered by her face. She didn't owe Wayne anymore of her time other than the minutes she invited him into her office for, and even that was too much.

But the decadent dessert never made it to her mouth as the utensil was suddenly plucked out of her hand by Bruce.

 _"Mmm,"_ he hummed in enjoyment as he bit into the slice, lips creasing and condescending eyes sparkling. "Antonio's lava cakes— really the best in the business. Never gets old."

Meredith was frozen to the spot, hand still raised like she held the fork. She stared blankly at Lois, who seemed extremely amused, glancing back between the two of them. Bruce set the silverware in her fingers once again.

Irritation raced down her arms and up her neck, flooding her brain with a buzzing cloud of red, but Meredith was better than to let it show. She knew all eyes in the room were on the two of them. The hungry vultures in the restaurant fed off of raw emotion— they took it and twisted it and exploited it for themselves, and there was no vulture quite like the Crown Prince of Gotham.

Somewhere in her mind, she kicked herself for what she was about to do. But the look on his face made her want to do it _oh so_ badly. Bruce was aware she wasn't one to engage in his playboy behavior. He stood with his shoulders tilted back, the way he did when he knew he had the upper hand. When he knew he won. He seemed proud of himself.

She looked up with a deadpan expression on her face, stabbing the cake again, not breaking eye contact with him. Warm chocolate burst across her tongue as she tasted it, licking the fork for good measure.

She gave him the shortest smile she had. "It's reassuring to know that we both agree on something. _For once."_

The previously smug face that Bruce wore fell from his eyes, gaze flickering briefly to her mouth, but he kept the smirk nonetheless. She won, as usual.

"Brucie, I'm starving," the blonde suddenly complained, apparently not caring about her date's interaction with another woman.

"Of course," Bruce snapped back into his suave and polished voice, just as he always did. "Wouldn't want to keep my beautiful date waiting. It was nice seeing you two."

The woman's giggles faded into the distance as they left to their table on the other side of the room. The second he turned his back, Meredith gagged silently, more out of dramatics than anything else. Leave it to Wayne to force her to resort to teenaged behavior, and then consider it a "successful win." She reached for her water and chugged down a few big gulps.

 _"Bleh,"_ she spat, wiping her mouth with her napkin as she looked at Lois, who was chuckling.

"You're _cold,_ Meredith. I've never seen someone shut down Bruce that fast."

She tried to help herself, she really did, but the reporter's words secretly made her bristle with pride.

"I've had a lot of practice," she nonchalantly explained as she raised her hand to ask for the check. "I find that it's better not to indulge him."

Lois snorted. "Well, you certainly indulged _something."_

Meredith chose not to comment as a waiter suddenly was at her side, handing her the bill. She gave him her credit card and he whisked off again.

"So, back to Superman," Lois continued. "I honestly don't have a direct connection with him—it's not like he exactly has a super-phone number or something. Usually, when I'm in danger, which is most of the time, he just shows up and I can get a few questions in."

"Then how do you suggest I contact him?"

The waiter came back, leaving her card on the table.

Lois slightly shrugged. "Next time I see him I can let him know you're looking for him. Which will probably be sooner than you think, considering something bad's always going on in this city."

Meredith sighed, opening her mouth to thank Lois for her complete waste of time.

Her eyes suddenly caught movement. She glanced down at her glass, in which the surface of her water started to shake.

"Wha—"

She was cut off by the silverware rattling. And then the table, which she gripped with both hands. Murmurs started to grow in the restaurant, everyone in the room looked around at each other, sharing a similar face. Lois had a shocked expression, head darting in the direction of the window.

Two blurs whizzed past the building with such speed that the panels of glass started to blow out, shattering on top of people's tables. That's when the screaming started. Everyone scrambled out of the room, dropping silverware, plates of food, and bottles of wine. Alarms flashed, workers ran after customers, trying to calm them down.

Meredith simply sat there, feeling lucky that the window next to them stayed intact, but allowing shock to settle on her face. She turned to Lois, who had windblown hair and pupils blown wide with adrenaline.

Meredith blew a sharp breath of disbelief from her nose. "You really weren't kidding."


	4. Chapter 4

She found herself locked in the gaze of troubled blue eyes from across the room, and nostalgia exploded across her forehead. Suddenly Bruce wasn't Gotham's White Knight, or the man who showed up in her office every few months, boasting about trivial things his company had done before whisking away to a car full of women. Meredith was good at forgetting about the past— not like she particularly wanted to remember it, anyway— but at that moment, he looked every bit the boy she used to know. Face wound up tight with concern, mouth parted slightly, and worry in his brow.

She didn't know what her face must've looked like, but it was enough to snap Bruce back into character. He reached over the table and grabbed the blonde's hand, pulling her up and out of her chair. Meredith looked back to Lois, only to find an empty seat in front of her. She turned to see the reporter sprinting after the crowd of people desperately trying to make it to the elevators.

She huffed, pushing herself from her table and heading after Lois, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her back through the butler doors of the kitchen. Lois looked startled, but didn't put up a fight.

"Where the hell are we going?" Lois questioned as Meredith marched past chefs and waiters, all too busy running around to notice the two women.

Meredith pulled her around a corner down a small hallway, before stopping and hitting a button on the wall. "Service elevator."

"How did you know this was here?" Lois' face was unreadable as the doors slid open and they stepped in.

"We're forty-three floors in the air," Meredith replied as the elevator started taking them to the ground level. "In Metropolis, a city with men who like to level skyscrapers for fun. You think I don't know all the ways out of this place?"

Lois nodded, seeming impressed. She then got another notification on her phone and her eyes widened. "Trouble downtown, Superman just arrived on the scene. A car is outside waiting for me, you in?"

Meredith paused, slightly shocked at the offer. She had never been one to run face-first into danger unless it was a risky business deal. She heard about Lois' job, and the woman seemed to have no issue throwing herself in harm's way to get a good story, especially if it involved heroes. Meredith supposed she technically _was_ going to make a business deal with Superman, and this certainly fell under the category of risky, so _theoretically_ it was okay for her to go.

"Uh, sure."

She didn't have time to slap herself for the unpolished response as the doors opened and Lois was running out into the lobby through crowds of terrified people. Meredith followed her as they burst through the big glass doors and saw a white van parked on the curb. The driver, a young, red-headed man, expectantly stared at them as he leaned over and opened the sliding door to the back.

Lois hopped in without second thought, and Meredith almost had one foot in the car before a rough hand was around her wrist, tugging her back. She turned her head over to find Bruce, who was giving her a look that said he definitely thought she was out of her mind.

Meredith scrunched her brows in confusion. There was a massive crowd waiting at the elevator doors upstairs, and there's no way he could've run down forty-three flights of stairs in that amount of time. How the hell did he get there so fast? And where was his date?

"What are you doing?" he asked sharply, tightening his grip on her.

It was her turn to stare at him like he was crazy. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Sorry, Meredith," Lois said from inside the van as she strapped herself in. "No time. We've gotta go. I'll let Supes know you're looking for him, though."

The door to the vehicle slid shut and suddenly the wheels were squealing down the street, leaving a wake of dust that Meredith had to stop herself from coughing at. She threw her hands at her sides, exasperated as she turned to Bruce. Did he seriously not want her to have a stake in the League that badly?

"What is your problem?" She couldn't help the snarl in her voice as she ripped her hand away.

 _"My_ problem?" He narrowed his eyes, sounding so legitimately concerned that she was almost disturbed. _"You're_ the one about to get into a car with Lois Lane, who's notorious for almost _dying_ on a weekly basis."

Meredith stared at him as he slightly heaved out of irritation, people running past them on the sidewalk and car horns blaring down the street. She briefly studied his shoulders, the way the navy suit hugged his arms, and the broadness of his chest. Since when had Bruce gotten so... _built?_ Given, she hadn't really ever had a chance to stand directly next to him in years, and even when she did, it was most likely at some charity function where she had more pressing matters at hand. She didn't bother to take in what he looked like, partially because it annoyed her, but mostly because she didn't care.

She racked her brain, trying for the first time in a long time to dig up memories of herself standing next to him. From what she remembered, Bruce had never been in bad shape, he'd always been fairly muscular, but the way he looked now was nothing short of a professional bodybuilder. Apparently, he had a newfound love for working out, which sort of shocked her. To have muscles like that took actual commitment and dedication, something Bruce tended to lack.

Maybe it was just steroids.

"What's it to you?" Meredith snapped.

She never received a response before the entire street suddenly shook. She nearly fell over, gripping Bruce's shoulder to stabilize herself. His head snapped in the direction of whatever caused it, hand darting into his suit pocket and hesitating there for a moment. She narrowed her eyes at the action as Bruce roughly pulled her back again.

The asphalt exploded in front of them, small chunks of concrete hitting her ankles. Meredith took this as her opportunity, slipping her hand into Bruce's pocket, finger curling around what felt like a metal ball. She played it off as her just falling onto him as support again. She stood back up and dusted herself off, looking up with wide eyes to find a red cape facing the other end of the street.

_"Superman?"_

"You two need to—" the Man of Steel cut himself off as he saw them. His eyes darted over to Bruce, and a look washed over the hero's features that she couldn't quite place. "You two need to leave."

A loud roar filled her ears, brassy and deafening, bouncing off of the buildings and echoing down the block. Superman's head whipped back towards what she assumed was the thing he was fighting.

"Superman." She stepped forward, voice still sounding as composed as ever. "I—"

"Ms. Elias, we can talk later. You need to get out of here. _Now."_ He didn't look back to address her as he began hovering above the ground. Her need to gawk at the phenomenon was superseded by her suspicion, and the feeling of Bruce going rigid next to her.

"How do you know I want to talk to you?"

He froze, cape still fluttering behind him as he turned around, looking nothing short of a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes shot over to Bruce once again. "Um, I have super hearing."

Apparently, Superman was not a _super_ liar. She glared at him, briefly forgetting about the impending danger that they were in. "And so you were... eavesdropping on _my_ conversation, of all people's?"

Another loud roar, this time much closer to them than she would've liked.

"I... like to know what Lois is doing." The man seemed conflicted, his attention switching from Bruce, to her, to whatever the monster was, and back to her.

She didn't have time to warn him as something was flying directly at the Boy Scout. Bruce shoved her back so hard that she fell onto the street, pain flaring in her back. She groaned as Superman grabbed the... _cape?_ Of the monster and spun it around twice, throwing it in a perfect arc as it dipped below the horizon line of downtown. Another crash boomed across the sky.

Superman was immediately at her side, picking her up like she weighed nothing more than paper and setting her on her feet. Her mouth hung open from shock as she got the full effect of the Man of Steel— he was massive, standing at about 6'4, with eyes so blue they nearly hurt and rippling muscles that made even Bruce look average.

His face, however, was apologetic and frazzled. "I have to go. Please take care of yourself."

There was a burst of air so sudden that it took her breath away, and he was gone. Stunned, she turned back to Bruce, who was furiously typing on his phone. Her mouth gaped, opening and closing as she tried to find the right words, but everything somewhat professional fell dead in her throat.

She settled on his name. "Wayne!"

He didn't seem to want to answer her as he marched forwards, about to grab her arm once again. She put out a hand to stop him and he paused, inspecting her face. Irritation seeped off of his body as he rolled his eyes, giving her the signal to talk.

"What."

"Why are you here?" Her voice sounded angry. "And why is Superman staring at you like he just walked into court? And what is _this?"_

She exposed the small, metal ball she had pulled from his pocket. The annoyance fell from his face as he gave her a scowl so dark it caught her off guard. He didn't say anything, probably wanting to come across as intimidating, but she knew better. That's what he did when he didn't have an explanation.

There was a flicker in his eyes and she barely had enough time to move her arm back before his hand was darting out, harshly knocking the ball from her fingers. The second it hit the ground, smoke was suddenly engulfing her senses, and she couldn't prevent herself from coughing.

What the hell was _Bruce Wayne_ doing with _smoke bombs?_

And then it was gone. Something cut across the manufactured cloud so sharply, and so quickly, that it dissipated into the air. A red-clad hero, one she immediately recognized as the Flash, stood in front of her with a beaming grin.

"Ms. Elias!" He reached out and shook her hand, which she assumed would've been like greeting a limp noodle, judging by her state of absolute confusion. "Pleasure to meet you, name's Flash. I'm your ride outta here today."

The hero noticed the second figure standing next to her, and his happy-go-lucky stature was gone. He chuckled nervously, looking back at her. "Um, we should—"

"Put your hands on me and there will be a lawsuit on your desk tomorrow morning _so big_ that I'll bankrupt the Justice League," she threatened, fed up with the constant manhandling of her body. Flash lowered his arms, seeming to be internally struggling with what to do.

She let out a breath, straightening herself out. A part of her didn't expect Flash to answer, but usually, if she sounded harsh enough, she got what she wanted. "What's going on? And what was that... _thing?"_

Following in Superman's suit, Flash glanced towards Bruce for a fraction of a second. Anger seared through her veins. Meredith _hated_ not knowing what was going on. Having to ask continuous questions made her feel like an amateur, but nothing was adding up. Why were all of these "mighty and great" heroes turning to _Bruce,_ of all people, like he had the answers?

"That was a Bizarro," Flash explained so quickly she could barely catch his words. "Lex Luthor's Superman-clone science experiment gone wrong. He can do some pretty serious damage, if you couldn't tell."

She furrowed her brows as another explosion was heard deep within the city. "So _Luthor_ is behind all of this?"

"That's... to be determined. Lex is holding a press conference right now in Centennial Park— some big business announcement. I don't know why he'd sick Bizarro on the city when the spotlight's supposed to be on him."

Meredith thought for a moment. Booking out the amphitheater at Centennial Park was no small price tag— not that Lex would _care_ — but it was geared towards more political endeavors. He usually preferred his own press room at LexCorp Tower for his grandiose announcements.

Her mouth parted slightly as realization dawned on her, muttering under her breath. "That son of a bitch is actually doing it."

Bruce seemed more or less back in his usual playboy facade as he stared at her quizzically. "Doing what?"

She pointed a finger at Flash, ignoring the question. "You need to go play collateral damage control _now_. I'd bet everything I have that the creature's orders from Lex were to destroy the city as much as possible."

Meredith spun around, marching down towards the white Ferrari parked on the street, thanking every god she knew that it was somehow left unscathed. In the blink of an eye, Flash was walking next to her.

"Uh, no offense, Meredith— can I call you that?"

She supposed she was looking to invest in his organization, so, much to her dismay, she might as well start to play nice with some of the members. "If what you say now isn't actually offensive, sure."

"Great. Listen, I'm getting the feeling that you aren't big on the whole, 'explaining your thought process' thing, but I kinda can't take directions from someone not on the League without a justification."

She paused at her car, digging the key from her jacket pocket and opening the door. She sighed, leaning against the roof of the vehicle. Flash somewhat intrigued her— it was obvious from the way he spoke that he was a people person, and she had originally tagged all members of the League as dark, God-complexed assholes along the same lines as Batman. Perhaps she could see herself getting along with the speedster.

She turned to him. "Luthor's running for president."

Bruce, who had followed the two, narrowed his eyes.

Flash shared the same expression. "He's _what?"_

"He called my office a few weeks ago asking me to endorse his campaign," she explained. "Obviously I said no, but that's partly because I thought he was joking. With election season coming up, a hot topic is always if heroes like you need to be held more accountable for the dangers you present."

The man in red didn't seem to like the statement as a frown etched into his usually happy face.

"And it's not public knowledge that the creature is Lex's doing." She briefly looked down at the silver-plated watch on her wrist. "So, Luthor orders his mutt to cause as much destruction as possible, then he swoops in, saves the day, announces his presidency, pays off the collateral costs himself, and the League takes the fall for destroying the city yet again. In other words, this is all a political stunt."

Flash seemed impressed as she pointed another finger at him. "That's why you need to go stop them from leveling Metropolis as much as you can. The less damage, the less of a reason Lex has to portray himself as the good guy."

There was silence.

"You're smart," Flash noted.

She shrugged nonchalantly as she sat down into the vehicle. "I don't run a multi-billion dollar conglomerate for nothing."

"And where exactly are _you_ going?" Bruce finally spoke up, giving her an accusatory look.

"To disrupt a presidential campaign." She turned her car on and the engine roared to life beneath her. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I refer to that man as _President_ Luthor."

 _And,_ if she gets the chance to speak on the League's behalf against Lex, the media may force their hand to broker a deal with her. But Bruce didn't need to know that.

She shut her door, floored the gas, and shot off towards Centennial Park.

* * *

Barry watched in amusement as the white vehicle sped down the road and disappeared into the dark. He didn't know what he had expected out of the so-called powerful, cutthroat "Businesswoman of the Century" Meredith Elias, but she definitely fit her title. He had to admit, he was slightly impressed she figured Lex's plan out that quickly, and _he_ was the fastest man alive.

"I don't know why we're so worried about her," Barry commented, looking around to make sure no one saw Flash and Bruce Wayne having a conversation in the middle of a destroyed Metropolis street. That would probably raise some suspicion. "She'd be a great addition to the corporate aspect of the League."

He turned his head towards Bruce, and Barry's face dropped. _"Or not._ I-I mean, what do I know about running a business, right?"

Bruce made an incoherent noise, something between a growl and a scoff. Barry assumed the man wasn't very pleased that Meredith knew more about the current situation than they did. "Go stop Superman and Bizarro from destroying the city. I'm following Elias."

The vigilante stalked off to a sleek, midnight blue sports car, parked a few spots in front of where Meredith's had been. The back bumper was slightly damaged from falling concrete, which he personally would've had a heart attack at, but he doubted Bruce cared.

Barry watched a billionaire speed off in a fast car for the second time that night. He allowed himself a brief chuckle. He had a funny feeling that, for once, this wasn't going to end up in Batman's favor.

* * *

Meredith arrived in front of Centennial Park, slamming on the breaks and getting out of her car to inspect the scene in front of her. Flash had unsurprisingly beat her there and skidded to a halt right next to Superman. Both of them had unreadable faces as the creature, apparently called Bizarro, fell to the street with a loud roar as the sound of electricity crackled along his body.

She didn't pay close attention to the heroes of the League like most of the general population, but she knew enough to realize that electrocution wasn't either one of the present member's powers. She turned her head to find the man of the hour, Lex Luthor, standing on the amphitheater stage in front of a crowd full of citizens and reporters. His hand was raised above his head, a remote-looking device in his fingers.

Even from a distance, she could tell his face was smug as the crowd went silent, stunned. She scoffed. Flash was late. _How ironic._

"That, my friends, is an example of LexCorps latest technological invention," his prideful voice boomed over the speakers, echoing around the park. He pressed a button on the remote and a small, black object flew over to him and hovered above his head. "LexBots— compacted, high-voltage soldiers capable of taking down even the mightiest of threats, with a fraction of the collateral damage caused by the heroes of your Justice League."

"I feel fortunate to have been given the opportunity to demonstrate their effectiveness for all of you today," he paused. "But it sorrows me to have to see my beloved city in constant ruin. Obviously, LexCorp will cover the costs for all of this destruction, because Metropolis is, and forever will be, under the protection of Lex Luthor."

He gave a wide grin, and the crowd exploded into questions, cheers, and camera flashes. She glanced towards the two heroes who stood next to a now-unconscious Bizarro. Superman looked two seconds away from blowing the bald man's head off, and Flash stared at her, almost seeming desperate. She sighed. Why was she always the one who had to clean up the mess?

She closed her car door just as another vehicle pulled up behind her, the front license plate reading "WAYNE." She rolled her eyes as she walked onto the path leading to the amphitheater. It was time for Meredith to do what Meredith did best: take an unfortunate situation and spin it for her own benefit.

Lex put his hands out in front of him, pretentiously drawing out each word. "People, please, please. Let's settle down. There are _much_ more pressing issues at hand to address. I _hardly_ called you all here today to announce some mere robots— that's not anything _new_ for my team of world-renowned scientists at LexCorp."

Meredith made her way towards the side of the stage, attracting some shocked looks from reporters. She studied Lex's face, his thin lips curled into what she would describe as an evil smile and green eyes surveying the crowd with an air of superiority. He looked like the human embodiment of a snake. It was mildly disturbing.

There was a brief silence.

"It is with such _great_ passion for the people and especially for my city, that today, I, Lex Luthor, am so _unbelievably_ proud to announce my candidacy for President of the United States in the upcoming election cycle."

If the crowd was loud before, it was blazing now. A barrage of questions flew at the Metropolis billionaire, who was practically glowing from the attention. The camera flashes were nearly blinding as he spread his arms in appreciation.

"This has obviously not been an easy decision," he explained. "I'm aware of the challenges that are presented as President, on top of my already busy schedule, but I feel that my years of work in Metropolis have prepared me for this role. I plan to make the changes I have implemented in this city and expand them nationally— to help the people has always been my first priority, and I am honored to have been given this opportunity to do so."

He adjusted the top of his red tie. "Before I answer any questions, I would like to take a moment to thank everyone who has supported and guided me throughout these very difficult past few months—"

He hesitated as his gaze turned her way and they locked eyes. She could tell he was biting back a smirk. "And here is one of them now. Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow business owner and respected friend, _Meredith Elias."_

A plan was spinning in her mind as she gave a smile for the cameras which had all turned to her.

"I am absolutely _inspired_ by Meredith, and as you all know," Lex continued as she made her way up to the stage. "I _deeply_ value her educated opinion. Elias Incorporated's work in Gotham does not go unnoticed— we can all only aspire to one day have even a fraction of the same drive and dedication that she does."

She wanted to scoff at his words that were obviously only played up for the media. Lex usually had no problem berating her to her face. He turned and opened his arms in a hug, which she begrudgingly returned for the sake of the crowd.

"You have a little something on your back," his hushed voice seethed in her ear, face still appearing pleasant. She probably had scuffs on her suit jacket from when Bruce pushed her onto the street.

She smiled back. "I'm assuming you're referring to the fall I took, caused by _your_ little monster. I'll be sending you my dry cleaning bill."

A dangerous look flashed across his eyes as he stepped back, gesturing for her to take the podium. She stepped up onto the wooden platform, her heels pushing her at just the right level for the microphone.

She cleared her throat, the stage lights a stark white against the dark sky. "Thank you for the kind introduction, Lex, and _especially_ on such short notice. Congratulations on the announcement, you truly deserve it."

The man's feathers practically ruffled at her inadvertently announcing that she didn't originally plan to be there. She was going to try and avoid blatantly endorsing his campaign as much as she possibly could.

"Metropolis," she addressed the crowd. "It's always humbling to be so warmly welcomed into your incredible city."

The large group was alight with questions directed at her, most about Lex's presidency, some about a Wayne Enterprises merger, and others just regarding her own company. She opened her mouth to speak when a particular, raven-haired reporter roughly pushed her way to the front of the crowd.

"Ms. Elias!" her voice rang out above the rest, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. When Lois Lane asked a question, people usually listened. "Rumors report that you are now funding the Justice League, is that true?"

The crowd nearly fell to dead silence, eyes going wide and turning to her. All microphones were raised, and she could feel Lex bristle next to her. Meredith wasn't one for spreading false information— she never needed any extra publicity aside from what she already got. But _this_ was an entirely different ball game.

Her lips curved into a smile as everyone in the vicinity awaited her answer.

_Thank God for Lois Lane._

"Yes."

And just like that, utter chaos erupted.

"I apologize to Lex for stealing the stage," she started, which hushed the crowd slightly. Lex _clearly_ did _not_ accept her apology. "And while this wasn't my original intention for being here, I thank Ms. Lane for bringing up my most recent endeavor."

She began the speech she prepared on the drive from Chez Metro. "Earlier, Lex brought up an outstanding problem— one I'm _thrilled_ to hear LexCorp is being proactive about— the disruption to our lives caused by the Justice League."

"Now, please, don't twist my words. I don't want to see articles coming out tomorrow on how Meredith Elias ostracized the League." A small wave of chuckles worked its way through the people. "I adore our heroes as much as you, and I'm grateful for everything they do to protect us. But the years-old question still remains the same: does the Justice League need to be held more accountable for their actions?"

She paused.

"Look around." She gestured to the city. "Do you know how much of your taxes— how much of _your_ hard-earned money— go to collateral damage repair annually? In just Metropolis, the cost for glass and window repair _alone_ has gone up _three hundred and seventeen percent_ in the last fifteen years. When Superman or the Flash decide on a Tuesday night to casually break the sound barrier, businesses are put back _millions."_

"And is that fair?" she asked. "Where are our beloved heroes after the fight is done? They aren't the ones who are out of the office, out of work, for weeks— sometimes even _months_ — as repairs are made. When they decide to use _our_ buildings, _our_ homes, _our_ cars, _our_ buses, as _toys,_ is that right? Should we be the Justice League's playground, and then pay for the cleanup?"

The crowd seemed to clamor in agreement, and the flashing lights only got more aggressive.

"However, does that mean we should riot if a bus is blown up? _Absolutely not._ We're all aware of their line of work, and if it comes to leveling a building, then that's what it comes to. But as Lex just very well presented, there are _obviously_ some more efficient ways to handle the threats to our planet than just brute force."

"Again, this is at no fault of the heroes. There just has to be a better system in place to track these things. Someone needs to keep the Justice League in check... and I have decided that person will be _me_. My technology division is equipped to handle the level of output needed for such a substantial project, and my company already pours millions into Gotham's collateral damage bills, so I hope to do the same in other cities with operating heroes as well."

"In addition, I will _personally_ be overseeing the League's funding and collateral damage costs. There is a middle of the road here to satisfy all parties while still keeping the Earth safe, and I believe I have that solution."

There was silence as she finished talking before voices exploded once again.

"All further questions I'm sure can be answered in the interview I have scheduled tomorrow with Ms. Lane." Meredith figured, at the very least, she owed the reporter that. Lois' eyes sparkled as she caught her gaze, sending her a thankful wink.

"I won't take up any more of your time. Once again, thank you all. I look forward to being the bridge between heroes and humans." Meredith stepped off of the podium, ignoring the shouts and screams directed her way. She passed a fuming Lex, giving him a sickening smile. She supposed she had already put the man through enough for one night.

"On second thought, I'll take care of the dry cleaning."


	5. Chapter 5

"I think it's so incredible that Meredith Elias is taking some initiative. I love the Justice League, but I only recently got back to work after my office was destroyed a few months ago. It's reassuring to know that there's someone hearing us and speaking up for the regular people."

The news on the massive screen shut off and Batman turned around, facing the table. Clark wasn't sure which part pissed him off the most. He was angry at Lex for sending Bizarro out to ruin Metropolis so he could paint the League as the bad guys, and while he was thankful for Meredith taking Lex's spotlight, he was angry that she essentially did the same thing. He was annoyed with Lois for helping her, and he was _especially_ angry with Bruce for blaming him and Barry for the entire mess when the billionaire had an equal part in it.

"The plan was _simple_." Batman's voice cut across the silent room like a knife. "I would talk her down, and that was _it_."

Clark rolled his eyes. "I'm _sorry_ I couldn't see into the future and account for Luthor announcing his candidacy."

" _Superman_ jumped the gun and overestimated how much she knew." Batman ignored him, referring to how Clark accidentally told Meredith that they would talk before she even asked to. "Meredith Elias is not an _idiot_. It won't take long for her to figure things out."

Clark couldn't stop his accusatory voice. He was tired of Bruce throwing blame on everyone but himself. "Oh, _please_ , Bruce. I heard your conversation with her after I left— she stole a smoke pellet, interrogated you, and you stood there like a moron and said _nothing_. How did you let her take one without you noticing? And why the hell would you even bring those with you to a restaurant?"

Batman was silent, but Clark could feel the anger simmering from the man. He was almost grateful for Flash speaking, saving him from the infamous Batglare.

"Alright, alright. I get it, we all screwed up," Barry commented from his spot across from Clark. "Can we talk about the more important thing? Like if we're _actually_ letting Meredith take over League collateral costs or not?"

Batman shot a look at the speedster. "No."

"I dunno, Bats," Cyborg turned around, crossing his arms. "Usually, I'm with you on this kinda stuff... but I've been doing some research on Elias. Her tech department is impressive, and that's coming from _me_. I looked into their plans on upcoming innovation— they've got some pretty sweet stuff going on. If I'm being honest, I wouldn't mind having access to it."

Barry nodded, jabbing a thumb at the robotic man. "I agree. The media's eating this up and the entire internet is exploding with people praising Meredith. Maybe it's... _good_ to be seen having a regular person working with the League, it makes us look a little more human and a little less God-like."

Clark sighed. They, realistically, didn't have much of an option. The media was brutal— he would know— and the _particular_ media covering this story happened to be Lois, who would be very unhappy if her "story of the year" ended up being a lie.

"I'm not a fan of hers," Clark said. "But she put us in a corner. People are going to think we're the bad guys if we don't actually work with her— like we don't care about the damage we cause."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his cowl. "Arrow and I already take care of collateral as well as funding the _entire_ League. We don't _need_ any more money."

"But the public doesn't know that," Barry added. "Unless you're willing to come out as Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen, and endorse the League like Meredith did, you can't do anything about it.

Clark turned to Oliver, who looked about a minute away from exploding with anxiety. Green Lantern apparently noticed too.

"Why don't we ask the other billionaire funding this whole sha-bang." Hal angled his body towards the archer. "Queenie, you're the one paying, so you've got as much of a say in this as Bats does."

Oliver's usually chipper face was dark, with crossed arms and irritation along his brow. He finally sighed, pulling his gaze up from the table and staring at Hal. "If you want my _professional_ answer— honestly, Meredith's smarter than I am. Logically, she'd be a good addition: she has a great tech division, tons of connections worldwide, and I agree with Barry's point about us being seen as more human. I mean, I'm fine with what I'm spending now, but if Meredith picks up the tab of a few extra billion, I wouldn't complain."

"If you want my _personal_ answer." The glowering stare was back on his face and shot in the direction of Bruce. "Then I am so _beyond_ irritated I don't even know where to start."

Hal's face darted back and forth between the two. "I'm sorry, I really don't understand what's going on here. What, did both of you... sleep with her or something? Is that the issue?"

" _No_." Bruce's voice sounded so borderline aggressive that Clark watched Hal slightly tilt back in surprise. "Arrow—"

Oliver shot out of his seat. "I told you, Bruce! _I told you,_ make a deal with her on _our_ terms before she forces us to make one on _hers_. And you're standing here... shocked? Confused? Angry? Because you decided to ignore me, and everything I said was going to happen _happened?_ Because you like to sit here and pretend you don't know Meredith like that?"

"I don't want her here."

Oliver scoffed. "Yeah, well, what you 'want' went out the door when Meredith announced to the entire _world_ that she was working with us, all because _you_ wouldn't cut her a bullshit ten percent and send her away!"

"She is not joining my team, Arrow," Batman spat.

The archer mockingly raised his brows. _"Your team?_ Listen, Bruce, I sit back and let you call the shots because you're good at it, and you're a smart leader. But let's not forget who had to fork over a casual fifty million last week because _your_ billing fell through, and _you_ were on a flight to California. I own this place, the Watchtower, and this team just as much as you do."

"You don't know what she'll do."

"Oh, I don't? Which one out of the two of us here is still friends with her?"

Clark paused, sharing a look across the table with Barry. So Bruce and Oliver were both friends with Meredith at one point? Clark was confused— he didn't know much about Meredith aside from what had occurred the day before, but he couldn't picture her and Bruce being friends. And he _definitely_ couldn't picture Bruce and _Oliver_ being friends. Come to think of it, he couldn't picture Bruce being friends with anyone, period.

Up until that moment, Clark considered himself Bruce's best friend, but he knew that hardly held much merit. Over the years, Clark had a few glimmers of hope from the Dark Knight: surprising his parents on Christmas with new farm equipment, putting in a good word with Clark's boss at the Planet, and even going so far as to pay Clark's rent on a few occasions. Essentially, Bruce just threw money around and then denied he did it, which Clark took as the ultimate act of kindness from the man.

But Meredith and Oliver couldn't be bought. Bruce couldn't throw money at them, because the other two billionaires could just buy whatever it was themselves. So Bruce didn't really have anything else to offer them besides... genuine friendship. Clark couldn't decide if he was slightly jealous, or slightly weirded out.

"You know what _your_ problem is?" Oliver's voice broke over the silence that had instilled itself in the room.

Clark cringed. Bruce usually didn't take very kindly to someone telling him what "his problem" was.

"You don't give a shit about any of this. Not _really_. Not about your secret identity, or mine, or anyone else's. You don't _care_ about the money, or your company, or the League. You're _scared_ that Meredith is going to do what Meredith always does— walk in here, take something of yours, and do it _better than you_."

There was dead silence, and Clark was nothing short of shocked. He had heard Bruce accused of almost everything under the sun: a dumbass playboy, a selfish vigilante, and even a horrible father out of anger from his own kids. But Clark had _never_ heard anyone call Bruce _scared,_ and especially not of something as human as Meredith Elias.

He studied the intensity in Oliver's face and the blank look on Bruce's, getting the feeling that there was more going on than anyone knew.

 _"You're. Wrong."_ Bruce practically seethed as he started storming out of the room.

Oliver barked out a laugh. "Really? Because the fact that that's _all_ you have to say tells me everything I need to know."

The archer paused. "Where the hell are you going?"

There was no response, and Oliver huffed. "Bruce, don't tell me you're going to talk to her."

Silence.

"Bruce!" Oliver went after the other vigilante, quickly catching up to him and grabbing his arm.

He turned around with a vile look across his cowl.

"Are you out of your mind? You can't go talk to her!" Oliver exclaimed. "She'll know it's you in two seconds!"

"Isn't that what you _wanted_." With another spin, the man was stalking off in the direction of the door yet again.

Oliver threw his hands up, and the metal doors slid open with a hiss. The Dark Knight was gone. Oliver tightened his fists, turning back around to the rest of the team, who stared at the door in shock.

Hal stood up from his seat and looked at the blonde man. "Alright, that's it! You need to tell us what the _fuck's_ going on. I'm tired of you and Bats randomly yelling at each other, running away, and leaving the rest of us confused."

* * *

Oliver stared at Hal, taking in the looks at the rest of the table. A part of him actually wanted to tell them. He didn't owe anything to Batman, and frankly, Oliver could care less about keeping the Dark Knight's secrets. But in another deep, long-forgotten part of his brain, there was some twisted form of loyalty to his old partner in crime, Bruce. Oliver knew he was strictly against the mention of anything pre-Batman era, for some reasons that were understandable, and others that weren't.

"Oliver?" Barry's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

The archer turned his gaze up again. Even Victor looked at him with curiosity, and the half-robot usually didn't care for information about their personal lives aside from the basic niceties.

Oliver let out a ragged sigh, pulling his hood from his head and running a hand through his hair. Honestly? Screw it. Bruce could clean up the mess himself, and Hal was right, they did at least deserve to know some of what was really happening.

"Bruce comes from wealth," he started, trying to choose his words carefully. "So does Meredith. So do I."

"So that's why he acts like a total dick?" Hal interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Even _I_ could've told you that."

"Do you want me to explain or not?" Oliver glared at him as he walked back over to his chair, and the Green Lantern held up his hands.

"All of the wealthy, East Coast families run in the same circle. The Wayne's, the Stagg's, the Queen's, the Elias', the Kord's, everyone. Thomas Wayne and Gregory Elias expanded their companies in the same city, and their wives were good friends, so Bruce and Meredith grew up together." Everyone at the table seemed intrigued, and Oliver felt like an idiot talking about childhood gossip with some of the world's greatest heroes. They were probably just interested to learn something about Batman outside of public knowledge, because it's not like Bruce ever shared anything.

He was partly hoping that someone would speak up and stop him from talking, but no one made any move to. He swallowed down the guilt that rose in his throat and begrudgingly continued. "When I was younger, I was... a troublemaker."

Barry choked out a laugh, crossing his arms. "Never would've guessed."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "I switched around schools a lot, so in the tenth grade, my parents transferred me to Gotham Academy. I kinda had a thing about... _intimidating_ , I guess, the head honcho's of the class, which happened to be Meredith Elias."

"I then quickly found out that you can't intimidate Meredith Elias, so I ended up getting to know her," he explained. "She didn't like anyone, but she tolerated me because of my name— she'd been networking since the age of, like, ten."

Oliver bit back a laugh at the next thing he wanted to say. "And there was this weird kid— the only other person she hung out with— who was too quiet and dark and brooding for a fifteen-year-old— Bruce Wayne. She was his only friend, and she was also my only friend, so by default, I became friends with him."

Barry chuckled in disbelief. "You seriously knew Bruce _before_ Batman? Like, as a kid?"

Diana, who up until then had been absolutely silent, had a surprised face. "I guess I've never thought about Bruce being... anything _other_ than Batman. I didn't realize he went to school."

"Yeah, why the hell have we never heard anything about this?" Hal chimed in again. "No offense, but Bats treats you pretty shittily— almost shittier than the rest of us. He acts like he'd rather see you dead half the time. I wouldn't really consider that 'childhood best friend' treatment."

Oliver glanced down at the table. "We aren't friends anymore. Long story short, stuff got messy, and then when we both realized we were in the whole 'billionaire vigilante' business, Bruce made it pretty clear that we were never going to speak about... before."

He turned over to Clark, who almost had a look of sympathy on his face. "Arrow, you've been in the League for _years_. This entire time, you two have just been pretending that you don't know each other?"

"What exactly did you want me to do, Clark?" Oliver questioned. "It's not like I'm gonna sit here and throw the past in his face every time we have a meeting. Besides, I'm interested in helping Batman, not Bruce Wayne. _Bruce_ lost my respect a long time ago."

There was silence. The generators softly hummed in the background, and occasional notifications appeared on the many screens throughout the large room.

Victor decided to speak. "This is all really enlightening, but how does this relate to him hating Meredith? You mentioned something about her being... better than him?"

Oliver almost groaned. This was the part he didn't want to talk about and the part that Bruce would probably hurt him for saying, if he already wasn't going to be mad enough. "There's... a lot of reasons why Bruce has a problem with Meredith. At least in school, she was sort of the golden child. First in the class, valedictorian, smart, a natural leader, you know, the works."

"Bruce was a lot like how he is now— he wanted to be best, the smartest in the room, the first to know. And don't get me wrong, he was ridiculously talented and good at everything, even I was jealous of him when we were younger. But he was always second to Meredith, and I don't think he could handle that."

"So Bruce was jealous of her?" Clark clarified.

Oliver shrugged. "Maybe. Honestly, I don't really know. A part of me thought he hated her, but she was also his best friend, but he might've had feelings for her? It was never really obvious, but Meredith could read that kid like an open book— which Bruce _also_ didn't like— so I wouldn't be surprised if she knew."

"I hate this conversation," Hal groaned. "It's disturbing to picture Bats as a kid with a life and emotions, and not some heartless, cold asshole who was born with a cape and ears attached to his head."

Barry laughed from next to him, nudging Lantern's shoulder. "Is it really that far-fetched? Look at Selina Kyle, Talia Al Ghul— Bats has a thing for dangerous women who can put him in his place. I'd say Meredith fits the description."

Oliver rolled his eyes, ignoring their comments. "So that's why he has an issue with Meredith joining, among a whole other mess of reasons that I'm not going to explain. She hates him, and if she finds out he's Batman, I don't doubt that she'll blackmail the hell out of him. Not that all of his money technically doesn't belong to her, but still."

The archer froze, not noticing the snarky comment had slipped off of his tongue until it actually came out.

"What does that mean?" Clark stared at him quizzically, seeming now like a reporter and not the man who could move planets. "And why does she hate him now?"

Oliver realized it was time to backtrack. "Nevermind. Listen, don't ever ask me about this again, I'm only telling you so you'll stop bothering me, _Hal_. Bruce is already gonna have my head for saying this much— it's all old shit from the past that doesn't matter anymore."

There was a pause.

Hal uncrossed his arms with exasperation and leaned forward. "Fine, fine. I'll never ask anything again, but answer me this: if Meredith is so smart and great and all-knowing, how has she never realized he's Batman? He's been doing it for years, and in _her_ city, of all places."

Oliver shrugged again and he sat back in his seat, relieved he had gotten through the conversation. "She just never really cared. She doesn't want to bother wasting her time figuring out who we are when she thinks we're stupid. At least not until now, when the League is actually something she's interested in. She probably already knows, or is at least close to finding out, so I don't know what the fuck Bruce is doing by going to talk to her. She'll look at him for three seconds and realize it's him."

"He isn't that idiotic, Oliver," Diana reassured him from across the table. "I'm sure he has a plan."

"Yeah, right," the blond scoffed. "You'll soon find out that, when it comes to Meredith, Bruce is sometimes not the most methodical."

An icky feeling settled in Oliver's chest. He hadn't talked about his life before Green Arrow in years, and especially not with the rest of the League. Seeing Bruce as his old friend and not as his boss was weird enough, and talking about it made it seem too real for Oliver's liking.

Hopefully, whatever Bruce was going to do wouldn't utterly blow up in their faces.

* * *

"And, this _Clark_ figure is... what? Your 'boy toy' when Superman is off saving Japan from a tsunami?"

"Meredith!" Lois' mouth dropped as an embarrassed grin spread on her face. She leaned back in her chair as she set her coffee on the desk. "Clark is _not_ a boy toy, he's a respected coworker and fellow writer."

A smirk pulled at Meredith's mouth. It was now dark, close to nine o'clock, and the two women sat in Meredith's office, finishing up the interview for Lois' article. Meredith couldn't help but poke fun at the reporter, who had gone off on a tangent about a "mysterious and mild-mannered farm boy." She never had any close female friends before, but Lois was slowly starting to turn into the exception. Maybe it was the fact that the newswoman essentially lied to the media and gave her an in with the League, but she was also headstrong and determined to make a name for herself in a male-dominated field, which Meredith could relate to.  
  
"Right," Meredith hummed. "A _respected coworker_ who you said has arms bigger than your head."

Lois laughed. "I _said_ that's to be determined. He always wears clothes that are too large for him, so I can never really tell."

"And the bold and courageous Lois Lane hasn't already demanded that the man rip off his shirt in the middle of the office? Shocking."

Lois scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You're horrible. Like _you_ haven't ever wanted to ask that? You _do_ work with Bruce Wayne, the man whose body every girl in town goes gaga for."

"Actually, _no,_ Lois, I haven't," Meredith teasingly smiled. "Because unlike you, I don't care what my colleagues do with their bodies, and especially not Wayne. Besides, we all know what _he_ does with _his_ body."

There was a pause before both of them burst into chuckles. Lois rolled her neck and straightened up before getting out of her seat. She brushed her black pencil skirt down. "Anyway, again, I can't thank you enough for the interview, Meredith. I owe you one."

The businesswoman waved her hand, sitting back in her seat. "You set up the Justice League on national television, let's call it even."

"Alright," Lois laughed again as she collected her belongings from the table. "Hey, by the way, I'm headed out now to go catch some drinks with Jimmy and Clark. Any chance you want to come?"

Meredith opened her mouth, but her eyes flickered to something behind Lois. Her office was big, with her desk by the large, floor-to-ceiling windows and a seating area with couches by the door. The furniture near the entrance was shrouded with darkness, and Meredith could've sworn she saw something move. She narrowed her eyes, and Lois traced her gaze.

"Something wrong?" Lois asked.

"No," Meredith partially lied, looking back at her. "I just forgot I have a business proposal due in the morning for my marketing team. I'll raincheck on the drinks, but I'll stop by the Planet later in the week and we can grab coffee."

Meredith stood up and walked the other woman to the door, holding out her hand. "It's always good to talk to you, Lois."

Lois smiled, returning the gesture. "Likewise. And I promise I'll try my best not to rip off Clark's shirt without you there."

"I'm sure you'll struggle to contain yourself." Meredith rolled her eyes half-heartedly, now distracted by whatever was hiding in the corner of her office. "Janette will show you out."

Lois said her goodbyes and Meredith shut the door behind the woman, her hand pausing on the metal doorknob. The room went eerily quiet without Lois' cheery presence. Meredith studied her shadow on the sleek door, illuminated by the dim light near her desk. She turned her head towards the seating area, squinting her eyes into the dark.

Maybe she was just being paranoid. Her security was top-of-the-line, best-in-the-business, and developed by EliasTech itself. There should be no way anyone could make it up to her office unless they smashed through the window, which was on the seventy-fifth floor, and even then, it was bullet-proof, military-grade glass.

She finally reached her hand over and flipped on the lightswitch by the doorframe, exposing the deep green couches. Nothing was there.

She sighed, slightly relieved. Then, she turned around to start walking back to her desk, and almost ran straight into a broad chest.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She took a step back, eyes widening as she took in the black symbol splayed across the gray fabric. Her eyes turned up to find a man's face completely covered in a black mask, with two points atop his head.

 _Batman_.

She quickly recovered from her shock, crossing her arms in a similar fashion to him. She raised an eyebrow.

"The elusive Dark Knight," she mused, briefly thinking about calling security, but knowing better. It's not like they'd do much against him, anyway. "To what do I owe your presence?"

 _"What are you doing."_ His voice was deep and chilling, definitely modulated to sound different, Meredith noted. When she saw glimpses of him on the news, he usually had his mouth area exposed. Now, the pitch-black cowl covered his entire face, outlining defined cheekbones, a straight nose, and a sharp jaw which she could barely make out.

She had to admit, the man was more terrifying up close than she had anticipated. He stood somewhere around 6'2, with a black cape shrouding the arms she knew were probably rippling with muscle.

"Well, I legitimately have a business proposal due in the morning, so don't flatter yourself," she spoke evenly as she stepped around his large figure and continued on her original path to her desk. "What's with the new costume? Was it getting too cold for the rest of your face?"

"You're _not_ allowed to work with the League."

She made her way to the small, metal Keurig on a table near her desk and switched it on. She apparently had a long night ahead of her.

"I don't remember asking for permission," she replied, watching the creamy brew fill the mug underneath. His gaze burned into the back of her head, which she desperately tried to ignore. Luckily, she was a fairly good actress.

"Call off the media. Say it was false." He spoke in a tone that told her that he usually didn't take no for an answer. How unfortunate for him.

She pulled out the mug once the pour stopped, turning around and leaning on the table. She took a sip of the hot liquid. " _No_."

With a wicked sense of pride, she studied the way his shoulders bristled. Although it was lit behind him, it was almost as if his suit was designed to keep the light away. Her eyes slightly strained to identify any actual details on him. He just seemed like a mass of black in the middle of the room. She was slightly impressed— she could see why criminals were afraid of him.

"Batman," the name rolled off her tongue like a curse. "You're a man of the people. Or, you work in an organization full of men who are. At the very least, I assume you're a man of business. If not, then I've severely overestimated you. We both know that this is what the people want, and I personally think that deep, _deep_ down, you know it's a smart idea, too."

In a matter of seconds, the Dark Knight had strode across the room and was towering over her once again. She almost rolled her eyes. Whether it was a bat-themed vigilante or an egotistical businessman, she knew a male trying to intimidate her when she saw one.

_"Call. It. Off."_

Meredith stared at his face with a blank look. She tilted her head to the side as she took another sip of the warm drink. "Or what? It's not like you're going to _kill me_."

She stepped around him again and sat in the plush office chair behind her desk. "And if you really feel so inclined, then please announce yourself that this is all a lie. I don't mind, really."

Meredith opened the laptop in front of her and pulled up the spreadsheet she needed for her marketing proposal, officially deeming the Batman not a considerable threat, at least not to her. She knew she had him cornered. He couldn't force her to speak to the media, and if the League did so, then the public would see them as irresponsible heroes who didn't care about damaging cities.

She opened her calendar on the screen, scanning her week. "I don't like you, and you obviously don't like me. But we both like your company, so it seems that we have a mutual goal. I have no interest in who you, or any other League members, really are, if that's what you're concerned about."

She received no response, but Meredith had never minded the quiet. She somewhat appreciated that the Bat was a man of few words.

"I'll take a wild guess and say that you have meetings of some sort." She closed her calendar. "I have time Thursday at six. I also assume you'll find a way to have the necessary papers sent to my office."

There was a long, drawn-out silence, as she opened the marketing spreadsheet and began to work on it. As usual, Meredith Elias had gotten what she wanted.

_"Hall of Justice. Wednesday. Eight o'clock."_

She smirked, still focused on the screen. "Pleasure doing business with you."

By the time she looked up again, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So I'm a little new to ao3 and I didn't realize you could copy and paste your chapters with the italics already on them, so for every chapter, I thought I had to go through and italicize the words (I'm stupid I know). But at least now this book is all caught up! I'll be posting more chapters soon!
> 
> xo Alexa


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce didn't like Meredith.

There were a lot of reasons behind that statement, though, in recent years, it was because she made Bruce Wayne uneasy, and Batman cautious. Bruce got uneasy because he knew that when he stared at her, he was going to be reminded of his past, and there was no avoiding it.

He was going to be reminded of the little things that he wanted to purge from his memory but couldn't. Her favorite restaurant, or her quiet laughter when he had gotten in trouble. How she used to crumple up napkins and force him to play mini soccer under the tables at stuffy charity events.

He was also going to be reminded of his mistakes. That was perhaps the more nerve-racking part. The way he always felt like he had to say something, _anything_ , about what had happened, but was unable to bring himself to do so. The way he felt like he owed her, but he wasn't sure what. He supposed it didn't matter. He knew she didn't care anymore, anyway.

Batman, however, didn't have a personal connection to Meredith Elias. He only saw her as a stranger that occasionally occupied the front covers of discarded newspapers on alleyway floors. As a woman who spent her days in her uptown castle, away from the horrors that ran ramped through the gritty slums down below. But it was that sense of distance that created his caution. She was unpredictable. He couldn't read her, regardless of how much he liked to believe he could. She could know absolutely everything, and passively play it off as no more than a blank stare, or she could know next to nothing, and flash him a smile that said she held all of his secrets.

He didn't like Meredith because, up until the current week, there was a very definitive line on which Bruce Wayne and Batman walked with her. There was the Meredith that Bruce knew, and the Meredith that Batman knew. Clear cut, black and white. Not a lot in his life was that easy anymore, so, in a way, he took solace in the small comfort. The blissfulness of knowing where he stood.

And now she was arriving at a meeting with Batman, because of an issue brought up with Bruce Wayne. That confused things. That blurred his nice, even line. She was no longer a stranger to the Dark Knight. She was now Meredith Elias, who gave pretty speeches to the media that made him tear at a punching bag in the Batcave, wondering where he went wrong. The same Meredith Elias who offered him convincing words and teasing eyes in her office, as if the addition of a full cowl was useless because she knew exactly what he was playing at.

He was aware that he should've just been impartial. Meredith was coming to the League meeting for business, and both Bruce and Batman could do business. Business was cutthroat and dry, it didn't involve nerves and caution.

But now, as he looked up and watched her walk into the doors of the Hall of Justice at exactly 7:59, she was Meredith, an uptown princess who gave pretty speeches and teasing looks and kicked crumpled napkins under tables. He wasn't sure if the newly improved cowl could protect him from the unease of Bruce Wayne, but Batman was sure as hell going to try.

All conversation in the room fell flat, and he had a brief urge to hit the other members. The last thing they needed to do was give her special attention. Letting Meredith know that she had a place of any importance there would be their first mistake.

He eyed the woman as the sound of her heels clicking against the floor filled the room. She looked as she always did— long brown hair and blue eyes, red lips and a pantsuit in a shade of some neutral color. Today she wore gray. In one hand was a tablet, and in the other was a coffee.

Flash ecstatically broke the silence. "Meredith, hey!"

"Flash." Her voice was cold as she approached them.

Hal was immediately flying out of his seat and over to her, extending his hand. The look on his face said that he had now taken an interest in the businesswoman, but not for anything that had to do with actual business. "Meredith!"

"Don't call me that."

She brushed past the green-clad hero whose lips curved into a frown. Bruce allowed himself a brief moment of amusement. While the circumstances still made his blood boil, at the very least, he knew he had another ally when it came to being annoyed with Hal.

"What gives?" Hal complained. "Flash just called you that!"

"Let's make this quick," Meredith ignored him as she walked to the front of the room and set down her tablet on the table. A large holoscreen appeared, with charts and numbers on the lit display. "I'm on a flight to Manhattan in an hour, so I have about twenty minutes. I assume we don't need introductions."

Bruce's amusement was long gone, anger quickly replacing it. Of course Meredith thought she was going to be heading the meeting. He briefly turned his gaze to Oliver, who had his hood pulled up, shrouding his face in darkness. The archer's words rang in his head: Meredith's going to do what Meredith does.

"Who said _you_ were leading this?" Bruce addressed the woman next to him. The way his voice came out— dark and gravelly— gave him a feeling of jurisdiction.

If she was surprised by his question in the slightest, she didn't show it. She simply glanced up at him with an eyebrow raised. "Who said I wasn't?"

He had to stop his fingers from twitching, desperately wanting to grab her shoulders and kick her out. He'd always hated Meredith's nonchalant answers. "This is _my_ team."

"And if you could actually _allow_ me to present what I've prepared, maybe you would do a better job at running it."

He didn't have a chance to snarl at her as Diana spoke up. He knew the Amazon was probably amused— Diana tended to automatically induct any woman who commanded authority into her "sisterhood." Bruce figured Meredith made the cut.

"I, for one, would appreciate a formal introduction." Diana didn't stand up, but sat at the closest seat near the head of the table. She held out her hand. "I am Wonder Woman. But you may call me Diana."

Bruce's left pointer finger curled in, threatening to pinch the bridge of his cowl. This was _not_ the plan. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Why the other members of the League couldn't comprehend simple instructions was beyond him.

Meredith reached out and clasped the other woman's hand. "Pleasure. Meredith Elias, but you knew that."

Diana nodded with a smile. "Yes, it's an honor. You've been quite the topic of discussion recently."

"I can imagine," Meredith mused, seeming a little more light-hearted, which only sent rage barreling down Bruce's spine. Meredith getting comfortable was a bad sign.

She turned back to face the rest of the table. "As you all know, I'm here strictly for funding and collateral costs. Don't take offense, but I have no an interest in any of you personally—"

"I actually _do_ take offense to that," Hal interrupted, now back in his seat with his feet on the table. "Why don't you tell us about yourself? I'm sure we're all curious to get to know the infamous Meredith Elias."

She narrowed her eyes. "Well, I _did_ develop a strategy for better funding collateral damage between myself, Wayne, and Queen, which in theory should save us a few million per month and take some of the stress off of cities and taxpayers."

Ignoring the conversation, Bruce began studying the information presented on the holoscreen. It was mildly... well thought-out.

"That's not what I was asking for," Hal started, only to be cut off by Meredith.

"So the plan is fairly simple..."

By the time she had finished, Hal stared at her with confusion, along with a majority of the rest of the table. The sheer numbers and calculations were apparently too much for the all-powerful Green Lantern to understand. Bruce, on the other hand, was tempted to double-check her work, but doubted he'd find a flaw.

Meredith took a sip of the coffee in her hand. "I'll pass it by Wayne and Queen, but I'm certain it will reduce our costs and benefit everyone in the long run. Which brings me to my first question: why exactly is a majority of your funding through the two of them? I looked at the numbers last night, only a small portion was from outside donation and city expenses. Was there no one else you could find? I personally know plenty of other billionaires that would love to be associated with the League."

"Bruce and Oliver operate in the same cities as Green Arrow and Batman," Cyborg turned to her. Bruce was thankful that Victor had taken the time to prepare, unlike everyone else. "It's easy to keep a close eye on them, plus, Arrow knows them fairly well. They were the most trustworthy and logical options."

From what he could tell, Meredith seemed satisfied with the answer. "Well, I'll send a copy of the new funding plan to their offices. There's another part to this plan that involves you all directly, but that can be addressed at another time. For now, let's just focus on the money aspect. I assume these are weekly meetings?"

Victor nodded. "Sometimes bi-weekly, depending on the state of the Earth."

"Of course." She gave a curt nod, shutting off the holoscreen and picking up her tablet. She looked down to the silver-plated watch on her wrist. A Breguet, Bruce believed. Meredith always enjoyed Switzerland. "And two minutes to spare. See you all next week."

"Wait, wait!" Hal put out a hand to stop her from walking. Meredith paused, looking back at the table.

" _One question_." He raised a single finger. "Just one personal question, that's all I'm asking for. One per meeting, that's not too hard, is it?"

She seemed contemplating. Bruce figured there was a fifty-fifty chance she'd actually take him up on the offer. At first glance, he'd assume no, but Meredith never failed to surprise him.

She turned her whole body around, staring at him with a stone cold expression. "You have a minute and thirty seconds."

The look on Hal's face was nothing short of stunned, as he stood there, sputtering. "Um, well, uh, what— what's, uh— what's your favorite color?"

There was a silence.

" _What's your favorite color?_ " Barry repeated, bursting out into a fit of laughter. "She owns a billion-dollar company, knows Bruce Wayne, and _that's_ the best you've got?"

"Shut up, smartass," Hal sneered, punching the red-clad hero in the arm.

Bruce already knew the answer, but highly doubted Meredith was going to tell the truth. She put herself at risk for inflating Hal's ego, and frankly, the woman would probably rather drop dead.

"Red."

 _Liar_. It was green.

As she turned around and walked away, Bruce narrowed his eyes, though no one could see. If he didn't know what it really was, he would've easily believed her. What other lies had she told them, even in just the last twenty minutes? No one would ever know the difference.

"Alright! Team Red, represent!" Barry cheered, nudging Diana on the shoulder before leaning across the table and giving Clark a high-five. The farm boy seemed amused, half-heartedly returning the gesture.

" _What. Ever._ " Hal groaned, throwing himself back down in his chair and turning to Oliver, who was definitely not in the mood for the Lantern's antics. The rumble of an engine was faintly heard outside, indicating she was gone.

Victor was the first to speak as he turned around to face the big computer. "Thanks for the help on the Bruce and Oliver question, guys. Really appreciated it."

"That's why you're here, isn't it, Mr. Roboto?" Hal smirked. "To answer all the hard stuff that us sacks of meat can't? Besides, no one briefed me on the plan."

Barry scoffed. "Yeah, _totally_ like we didn't talk about it three times before she showed up or anything."

"I liked her," Diana suddenly announced. Bruce nearly rolled his eyes.

"We could tell," Oliver finally spoke for the first time, pulling his hood back. He sounded somewhere between angry and cynical. "Nice job, exposing your secret identity and all, D."

"How about we _don't_ rag on Diana?" Clark looked around at the rest of the members. "I've never liked Meredith, but I'll admit, her plan was pretty impressive. Well, at least from the parts of it I actually understood. I hoped our resident business owners and human computer would pick up on the finer details."

Victor nodded, extending his hand which projected a holoscreen with the exact image of what Meredith showed earlier. "I was running the numbers as we spoke, and Superman's right, it's smart. Efficient, too. I'm not really involved in the League's finances, but I'm kinda pissed I didn't think of it first."

Oliver made a noise, undoubtedly rolling his eyes, as he pushed himself out of his seat and left the room. Bruce studied the other man, watching the saunter in his step, and how his left foot turned out ever so slightly from his right. Not much about Oliver had changed— he still stalked off whenever he was furious.

"I'll take it, he's mad," Barry spoke.

Hal shrugged. "He literally said he thought having Meredith here was a good idea, and so she walked in and did what he said she would do: she gave us a smart plan. I don't get what his problem is."

"I think he—" Clark paused, getting the look on his face that Bruce knew meant the alien was listening to something. Clark stood up. "I think he knows she'd be a good asset, but he doesn't want her to find out who he really is. I also think he's angry that we let her get this close in the first place."

Clark shot a look at Bruce, something that the Dark Knight took as accusatory. Bruce was aware that "we" really meant "Batman." A beep came over the monitor.

"Uh oh, Toyman spotted in downtown Metropolis," Cyborg announced, turning around. "Supes—"

There was a gust of wind, and the Man of Steel was gone.

"Guess he already heard."

* * *

As promised, Meredith walked through the halls of the Daily Planet with two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. It was Thursday, around six o'clock, which filled the building with a warm sunset glow. She had already gotten more than a few incredulous looks from passing journalists, but none of them had bothered to stop her.

She had gotten information that Lois' office was on the thirtieth floor, and was about to round the corner to the main room when a figure roughly slammed into her. Coffee fell from her hands, splattering all over the tile. She stepped back, just barely managing to keep the hot liquid off of her new white heels.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry," the voice, deep yet frantic, said as the man bent down to pick up the two cups.

Meredith noticed his plaid shirt and mess of black hair atop his head. Irritation bubbled inside of her. She had purposely gotten coffee on her way into the city from her favorite Metropolis cafe, Mocha Brews, which was too far to go back to again. But she supposed she wasn't going to take her anger out on a random Daily Planet journalist.

After grabbing the spilt drinks, the man looked up as he stood back to his full height. Meredith noticed his eyes beneath the thick, black frames and she froze. _She knew those eyes_.

The man seemed to recognize her as well, the smile on his face going flat for a brief second.

Apparently, Meredith could never contain her surprise around the Man of Steel.

" _Superman?_ "

Fear shot through his features, a look foreign to him. He quickly recovered, giving her a pleasant smile yet again. "Excuse me? I think you have me confused with someone else, ma'am."

She raised a brow. "Oh, I don't think I do."

She'd give it to him, if she hadn't seen his eyes under the glasses, she probably wouldn't have realized it was him. His usual curly hair was unnaturally slicked back, and the oversized plaid shirt tucked into a cheap belt concealed the mass of his body. The glasses masked the true color of his eyes rather well.

"I mean, I wish I was the Man of Steel. Who wouldn't want to be, right?" He chuckled but seemed to be slightly panicking now.

She crossed her arms, giving him an unamused expression. "You have eyes so blue that I get momentarily blinded when I look at you. No one else in the world has those. Well, at least not in _this_ world."

The man opened his mouth but was interrupted by a shocked voice.

"Meredith!"

They both turned to find Lois Lane, in a black blouse and purple pencil skirt. A bright smile appeared on the reporter's face as she approached the two.

"Lois, hi." Meredith smiled, trying to not say what she actually wanted to: _did you know you worked with Superman?_

"I didn't actually think you would stop by," she laughed in disbelief, before turning to the man next to her. "I see you met _Clark_."  
  
Lois eyed her in a way that she was trying to tell her something. Suddenly it clicked in Meredith's head, and she let out a strangled laugh. She immediately coughed, trying to compose herself, but unable to keep the shock from her tone.

" _This_ is Clark?" Meredith would never admit to it, but her mouth hung open. She bit back a laugh again. "The... farm boy you were telling me about."

"That's the one," Lois gave a forced smile. She obviously didn't like Meredith letting Clark know that they had talked about him.

Meredith turned to the man, who had the same pleasant look on his face that didn't reach his eyes. It had happened very rarely in her life, but Meredith was nothing short of absolutely stunned. "I thought you said he was just a mild-mannered reporter?"

Lois now looked confused, cocking her head slightly to the side. "He is."

She glanced back and forth between the two of them. Clark was now borderline angry. So, Lois had no idea that her public love interest and private reporting partner were the same person?

"Right..." Meredith hummed, wondering how the hell the best reporter in Metropolis whiffed on such a monumental discovery. "Well, anyway, I did bring some coffee, but apparently Clark is a _super_ klutz."

She gestured to the brown puddle on the floor. She was sure her eyes were teasing as Clark chuckled again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

Meredith waved her hand. "Oh, no worries, you can just go back to Mocha Brews and get us more. One milk, two sugars."

"Mocha Brews?" Lois repeated. "Meredith, that's all the way on the other side of town! You can't expect Clark to go there!"

Meredith shrugged, putting a hand on Lois' arm and guiding her in the direction of the main room. "Oh, I'm sure Clark can make it there rather quickly. He seems... _fast_."

"Fast?" Lois laughed. "Clark? Hardly."

Meredith chuckled with her, turning to the tall man, who gave her a glowering stare.

She smirked. "Better _fly_ , Kent. Clock's ticking."

They entered the main room, filled with cubicles and bustling reporters. Lois took her to what was apparently her desk, hurriedly pushing off all of the clutter and random papers that occupied her space. A face suddenly appeared over the wall to the cubicle next to them.

She was an African woman, with her hair in a short bob and a dark shade of red lipstick. She leaned over the divider with a smile. "Rumor has it that Meredith Elias was in the building, I should've known Lois had something to do with it."

The woman stuck her hand out. "Cat Grant."

Meredith immediately recognized the name that usually floated around on TV. She returned the gesture. "Meredith Elias."

"I cannot believe you made Clark go all the way to Mocha Brews, Mare." Lois turned around after finishing cleaning her desk. Meredith paused at the nickname. Only a few people had ever called her that, most she wasn't friendly with anymore, but she supposed Lois could be allowed to.

Meredith shrugged. "I was testing him to see if the man is worthy of your time."

Cat's mouth dropped with a grin. " _No way_. Another person _actually_ knows about the Clark and Lois scandal? And billionaire Meredith Elias, of all people?"

"Scandal?" Meredith repeated.

Lois rolled her eyes, leaning against the short wall. "It's hardly a _scandal_ , Cat. Me and Clark share a byline sometimes. It's not a big deal."

"Speaking of _big deal_ ," Meredith said, the corner of her lip turning up. "Your conspiracy about Clark's muscles? They're definitely huge."

Lois looked mortified, and Cat let out a bold laugh, slapping the top of the wall.

"Oh my God, that's _rich!_ " Cat choked out. "They so are, aren't they?"

Lois scoffed. "You two are _so_ lucky he can't hear us right now."

This time, Meredith joined Cat in her laughter, but not for the reason either of the two reporter's thought. The situation was just so unbelievably ironic that she couldn't _not_ find it funny. Chances are, the man _was_ listening to them right now.

Cat stopped laughing, wiping away a tear. "Oh God, that was funny. I told you, Lois, that man is _stacked_. But you'll believe Meredith when she says it, not me, right?"

If it was in Lois' personality to be embarrassed, Meredith would say she was.

"You just want me to sleep with him and let you know how it goes, Cat," Lois narrowed her eyes. "Meredith doesn't have any ulterior motives."

She knew it was against her reputation, but she couldn't help teasing the reporter. "I _do_ kind of want to see you rip off his shirt in the middle of the office."

Cat burst into another round of laughter. After a few more minutes of chuckling at Lois' expense, the Man of Steel "miraculously" walked back into the office with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands.

"Look what I said," Meredith gestured to the man approaching them. "He _was_ fast."

Lois seemed shocked. "Clark, how the hell did you make it back already? It's only been, like, ten minutes!"

Clark smiled sheepishly as he handed them the drinks. "There was no traffic."

"It's Metropolis, Kent," Cat said. "There's always traffic."

Meredith muttered a thanks, putting a hand on his arm in appreciation. If she had doubts in her mind before about who he was, there was none now. The hard muscle under the soft fabric confirmed it. Meredith turned to Lois with a smirk. "You're definitely right."

Cat stifled another snicker, probably out of respect for Clark, and Lois looked about two seconds from running away. Meredith usually didn't care to get involved in other's love lives, but this was _Superman's_ love life. She doubted anyone could resist.

Clark looked anxious as he stared at her, chuckling nervously. "Right about what?"

She took a sip of the coffee. "Lois likes to speculate that you have big muscles."

His mouth dropped, Cat nearly fell over from laughter, and this time, Lois flushed completely red.

A man suddenly approached the three, wearing a headset with a microphone next to his ear. "Sorry to interrupt, but you're on in two, Ms. Grant."

"Can you get someone from makeup, Gary? I'm gonna need it," Cat wiped her tears again. "Thanks for the laugh, Meredith. It was long overdue."

"I'm coming to sit in on the segment," Lois rushed, grabbing a stack of papers from her desk and whisking off after the newscaster.

Meredith watched in amusement as the two women walked away to the production room. Sipping the drink again, she turned back to Clark, who was scowling at her with his arms crossed.

She raised the cup slightly as a greeting. "Boy Scout. Always good to see you."

"Ms. Elias—" he began dangerously, but she held up her other hand.

" _Please_ , I know your secret identity and exploited it to get coffee. At the very least, you can call me Meredith."

He huffed. " _Meredith_ , Lois doesn't know—"

"Well, that much is _obvious_ ," she interrupted him again. "Don't worry, we only talked about your body. Didn't you hear?'

"Uh, well, n—" he stammered. "No. I was raised a gentleman, I don't eavesdrop on conversations that I'm not a part of."

Meredith rose her brows. "Really? You seemed to have no problem doing that last week while I was at Chez Metro."

"That was different," he explained. "That was for work. I don't need to hear Cat laugh about... about _me_."

"So you're not interested in Lois? I can spare you the trouble and just let her know."

His eyes slightly widened. "No, I— I'm not _not_ interested in Lois, I mean, it... it's complicated, and I don't need to explain it to _you_."

She rolled her eyes as she took another drink.

"Why don't you tell me about _your_ thing with Bruce Wayne?"

Meredith was taken aback at the sudden change of topic. "If by a _thing_ , you mean we both run corporations in Gotham, then yes, there's a thing."

"I don't know," Clark now seemed teasing, most likely trying to get revenge for embarrassing him and Lois. "You two seemed pretty cozy on the street the other day."

She stared at him incredulously. "You consider him _shoving me_ into the pavement as we almost _died_ by a monster, _cozy?_ I forgot chivalry wasn't dead."

The man shrugged, immediately going from defensive and angry to lighthearted and joking. He sat down in Lois' office chair and Meredith was honestly confused. What was it about Bruce Wayne that makes all these heroes so comfortable? She remembered Cyborg mentioning that Green Arrow knew both Bruce and Oliver. Maybe the League was just friendly with them.

"So tell me about _Bruce_ ," Clark said nonchalantly, but his eyes glimmered with mischief.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "He funds the... you know what. I've talked to him a bit. He stops by the Hall sometimes. I'm just interested to get to know him better."

She leaned on the divider of the cubicle. "Why do you care about what he does?"

"Well," he leaned in towards her, looking around to check if anyone was listening. "Come on, we all know that the whole playboy thing is just an act."

Her eyebrows raised. To her, Bruce was astoundingly fake, but she knew that to the public, he played the part well. Aside from Oliver, no one else ever picked up on the fact that Bruce was just acting.

He apparently sensed her confusion. "I cover a lot of red carpet stuff, galas, charity events. I've caught the man off guard a few times. It's just become obvious over the years that he's not who he seems."

"And... what makes you think that I would know who he really is?"

"I mean, it's public knowledge that your fathers were good friends. I saw some really old papers in the Planet archives with you two as kids on the cover. I just assumed you knew him."

Meredith stared at him, slightly surprised as she sipped her coffee. "You know, you're surprisingly... _perceptive_ , Kent. I always just took you as the guy who punches stuff."

"Well, I _have_ been a reporter here for over ten years, so I'd hope so." He gave her a cheeky smile, and she narrowed her eyes. He really _was_ as attractive as they all say.

The phone in her pocket suddenly beeped. She pulled it out, looking at the notification and sighing. "I've gotta run. My board of directors meeting just got rescheduled to eight tonight. Are you going to be covering the CCPD Fundraiser on Saturday?"

He nodded.

She clicked her phone off and tucked it back in her pocket. "Then we can continue this conversation there."

"You're actually attending?" He sounded surprised. "You rarely ever show up to charity galas or press events unless it's for your own company."

She didn't really owe him an explanation, but the man _did_ just fly across town to get her coffee. She almost chuckled at that. Her life was strange sometimes.

"Some of my mother's close friends work in the CCPD, and my parents are currently out of the country, which makes me the unfortunate Elias to fill in for their absence."

"Is there... another Elias?"

She finished her coffee and threw it in the trash. "My older brother, Devin, but he lives in Florida and has never cared for the family business. "

Clark raised a brow. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"Not many do, he prefers to stay out of the spotlight." She shrugged. She liked to keep the talk about her brother to a minimum. "Anyway, the company isn't going to run itself. I'll see you Saturday."

She turned around and started to walk back down the hallway.

"It was, uh, nice meeting you, Meredith."

She waved her hand behind her.

"You too, Boy Scout."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for all of the support and comments so far! I'm really enjoying writing this :)
> 
> xo Alexa


	7. Chapter 7

_**33 YEARS EARLIER** _

The chauffeur popped open the passenger door to the sleek black vehicle. A woman with light hair appeared inside, giving the man a warm smile and a nod. He did the same to the back of the car, where an older man exited. Two small children jumped out behind him, chattering rambunctiously amongst themselves.

The little girl wore a pale blue dress, twirling around after the older boy to show off her new dress shoes. "I am _sooo_ excited. Maybe they'll have the tiny, puffy thingy-s!"

Other people were still arriving around them, getting out of luxurious vehicles dressed in black tie clothing. The boy rolled his eyes but laughed with the girl. "They're called cream puffs, dummy."

"Devin Jeremy!" the woman scolded, scowling at the boy. He blinked at her innocently. She sighed, walking over and adjusting his blue tie which matched the girl's dress. "Don't call your sister that."

The girl giggled as their mother left. "Ha ha, you got in _trooubleee_."

"Oh, shut it." He pushed her gently before running to catch up after the woman.

She squealed in surprise, almost toppling over, but being caught by a firm hand on her back. She looked up to find her father, and she pouted. "Dad, Devin pushed me!"

His usually cold face broke into a loving smile. "He did not!"

"He did, too!"

A chuckle rumbled in his chest as bent down to face her. "Should we see if Uncle Thomas left some snacks out for you? Maybe that will make it better."

She drew in a long gasp, her eyes widened brightly as she clasped her hands over his. "Really? Do you think he did? Like... like the puffs?"

"How about we go find out?" He stood up, leading the excited six-year-old to the doors where the rest of the guests were entering. She struggled to keep up with her father's strides, hurrying up the small set of stairs. She stayed close to his side. She knew that if she didn't, she would get swept away in a crowd of high heels and sharp suits.

The warm lights were a nice reprieve from the chilly nighttime air outside, and goosebumps ran up her pale arms. Her father took her down a long hallway before entering a grand room. Chatter and soft music echoed around the vaulted ceiling, and waiters dressed in matching black tuxedos whisked around the floor with silver platters of food.

They finally reached the other side of the room, where she saw the familiar man. He had black hair, the sides peppered with gray, and a charming smile on his face. He talked amongst a group of other men and women, one being her mother.

"Uncle Tommy!" The girl shrieked, pulling away from her father and running towards the other man.

He turned around, eyes skimming the crowd before landing on her. He grinned. "Meredith!"

He plucked her from the ground, twirling her in a circle and resting her on his hip. She giggled, grabbing the man's face with her small hands. "Uncle Tommy, I-I was wondering... I was wondering if you... if you had the chocolate puffs?"

"Meredith," her father sounded strict once again as he joined the small group. "Is that a proper way to greet people?"

Her face fell in shame as she turned back to Thomas. " _Sorrrryyy_. How are you, Uncle Tommy?"

He had a chuckle similar to her father's. "I am doing very well, Meredith. But you know you can't have dessert until you've eaten dinner." He studied her face before leaning closer to her ear. "However, I think Alfred can make an exception just this once, hm?"

She broke into a smile, but suddenly noticed another woman approaching them. Meredith's eyes widened, squirming quickly to let Thomas know she wanted to be put down.

"Auntie Martha!" she called as Thomas set her back on the ground. She ran to the woman, who, much like her husband, smiled at the small girl.

"Hello, Meredith," Martha greeted warmly as she bent down to kiss her on the forehead. "How are you tonight?"

"I-I'm doing the greatest! Where is—?"

With perfect timing, two blue eyes poked out from behind Martha's deep purple gown. Meredith took in another long gasp before running around the woman, nearly slamming into the six-year-old.

"Bruce! Bruce!" She wrapped the boy in a hug which he was clearly not expecting. His cheeks turned red in embarrassment, almost matching his tie, but Meredith didn't notice, or care. She let him go, grabbing his hands. "You will _neverrr_ guess what Uncle Tommy just told me!"

She cupped her hands around her mouth and pressed them to his ear. "He says we can have puffs before dinner!"

Bruce's face lit up, any shyness long gone at the mention of the dessert, turning to his father expectantly. Thomas smiled, mouthing "go" and waving them towards the kitchen with his hand. Bruce laughed, pulling Meredith back through the crowd by one of her arms. They weaved around dancing couples and through the butler doors to the kitchen, which was just off of the hallway by the ballroom.

They burst into the large room, Bruce letting go of her as he ran up to the massive refrigerator. It took him a moment to tug open, using all of his body weight. Meredith stood next to him, and Bruce suddenly let out a shout. She noticed that one of the many shelves filled with trays was empty.

"Hey!" he complained. "Where'd they go? Alfred always keeps them right there!"

Meredith cocked her head but didn't need to find an answer as another voice filled the room.

"You guys've gotta be faster than that if you want the good stuff."

The two turned around to find her brother sitting at the kitchen island, smirking, and face full of cream puffs.

"Devin!" she cried as Bruce rushed forward. Devin grinned, teeth covered in chocolate. He held the silver tray above his head, putting a hand out to keep Bruce away.

"You snooze, you lose, Shortstack." He laughed, his hand messing up Bruce's previously perfect black hair.

Bruce finally gave up, stepping back with a huff and crossing his arms. "One day I'm gonna be bigger than you, Devin! I am turning _seven_ next week!"

"Still sounds like a baby to me," Devin snorted. Meredith huffed, walking around behind her brother and hitting him in the shoulder, effectively making him drop the platter. It clattered unceremoniously on the counter, and she slapped his hand away when she tried to reach for it again.

She picked up a single pastry. "You're only eleven! That's not an adult."

Devin rubbed his shoulder, getting pushed out of the way by Bruce, who shoved three cream puffs into his mouth at once.

" _Eggsactwee_ ," Bruce muffled in agreement.

The sound of the door opening was heard. "And just _what_ is going on in here?"

They looked to the British voice, and all three pairs of eyes widened. Devin stepped away from them as if to not be associated with the two younger children.

"Bruce and Meredith ate all of the cream puffs!" he declared. "I tried to stop them, but Meredith hit me!"

"We did not!" Meredith slapped her brother again.

"Hwee's wying, Afwed!" Bruce choked out from his full mouth, hiding his chocolate-covered fingertips behind his back.

Alfred sighed, eyeing all of them accusingly. "Miss Meredith, do not hit your brother. And Master Bruce, next time you attempt to lie, at least take it upon yourself to swallow first. Now, run along. I must prepare _another_ tray, thanks to you three."

Meredith scowled, grabbing Bruce's arm and glaring at her brother. "You're the worstest, Devin."

"Miss Meredith!"

She cringed at Alfred's tone, picking up her speed and dragging Bruce back out the door. Once they got far enough down the hall she let him go. Bruce licked the chocolate off of his fingers, giving her a lopsided smile. "My dad told me that worstest is not a word."

She crossed her arms. "You are the _worstest_ liar I have ever known."

Bruce stared at her thoughtfully, apparently not having a comeback. He tilted his head, before smiling again. He stood up straighter. "Oh! Do you wanna see something cool?"

There was a pause as she blinked.

"Sure!" She finally giggled, quickly forgetting about her previous irritation. Bruce always had interesting things to show her. She followed him past the entrance to the ballroom and deeper into the Manor. She sometimes got lost at the many long hallways and sharp turns, but Bruce knew them like the back of his hand.

He abruptly stopped at one of the hallways, which had a few paintings on the walls, a small table, and a door at the end. He gestured her down it, their footsteps quiet against the burgundy carpet.

"Where are we?" she questioned, staring at the paintings as she passed them.

"Look," he said, picking a flashlight off of the small table and bringing it to the end of the hall. He switched it on before opening the door. It creaked open, and instead of whatever room Meredith thought it might be, it was pitch black darkness.

Her eyes widened, immediately feeling nervous. "Um, Bruce, I dunno if this is safe."

"It is totallyyyy safe," he hummed, shining the flashlight into the darkness and taking a step through the door. "My dad showed me yesterday!"

"T-then maybe we should tell Uncle Tommy."

He paused and turned around with a playful grin. "Are you _scared,_ Marrie?"

"I-I am not scared! I just do not want to get hurt!"

He studied her once again, and she tried her best to put on a brave face. She would not show Bruce that she was scared, or he'd tease her forever.

"It will be okay," Bruce pulled back the arm of his suit jacket which was a little too big for him and held out his pinkie. "I promise."

Meredith eyed him warily, but sighed. She took her little finger and wrapped it around his, squeezing it tightly. "Fine. But you can not break a pinkie promise, Brooch."

He furrowed his brows at the nickname, his lips curving into a frown. "Do not call me Brooch."

"Don't call me Marrie," she countered as he turned around and she started to follow him into the darkness. She took a step in, feeling wood creak beneath her feet. It was freezing. She could tell the room was massive, and it sounded like wind echoed around her. She kept a hand on Bruce's arm to make sure he didn't get too far.

From the flashlight Bruce shined on the ground, she saw they were on some sort of platform. Bruce led her down a set of stairs. After about twenty or so, they reached another platform, with a wooden railing around it.

Bruce moved the flashlight to the wall behind them, which was made completely out of stone and had a small light switch on it. He flipped it on, and suddenly the entire place was flooded with dim light.

She blinked, adjusting to the brightness as she turned around. She gasped. They were above what looked like a massive cave.

"Tada!" Bruce grinned, taking a few steps back and proudly spreading his arms wide. "Welcome to my secret lair!"

"W-what is it?" Meredith walked forward with her arms crossed around her body. She froze as she noticed how high up they were, and the small stream of rushing water far below. Bruce didn't seem to mind, still beaming with pride.

"I already told you. It's my secret lair! And my dad said it's _allll_ mine. Isn't it the coolest?"

She inched closer to the railing. "K-kinda. But lair's are for v-villains."

"Maybe I'd be a good villain," Bruce stomped his foot before a wicked look overtook his features. He suddenly lunged out at Meredith, cackling evilly. Meredith screamed, pushing him away.

"Stop it, Bruce! That's not funny!"

His evil laughter slowly turned into Bruce's regular childish giggles. "You _are_ scared!"

She huffed, turning away from him. Bruce was _so_ uncool.

There was a small squeaking in the distance. Meredith turned back around, her arms falling at her sides. Even with the dim industrial lighting, she couldn't tell where it was coming from. Bruce seemed curious, too, glancing over the railing and surveying the cave.

A gust of wind blew her hair back and she shivered. "B-Bruce, I think we should go."

"Not yet," he replied, not taking his eyes away from past the railing. "What's that s—"

Suddenly something rather large in comparison to her was flying at Meredith's face. She screamed in fear, not having time to make out what it was, slapping it and falling back. She moved her hands violently in an attempt to get it away. The thing suddenly flew over to Bruce, who let out a scream of his own.

Terror ran through Meredith's body as Bruce pushed himself back against the bar of the railing, and a sharp sound echoed through the room.

Bruce was too busy swatting away whatever it was to notice the large crack in the wood behind him. Despite the tears now bursting behind her eyelids, Meredith pushed herself up and lunged forward. She grabbed Bruce's arm, the flying thing hitting her arm again, and pulled him with all of her strength.

He toppled forward just as the wooden railing finally broke, disappearing into the expanse of the chasm below. Bruce ungracefully fell on top of her, blowing the air from her lungs. The black thing had now disappeared, leaving the two of them on the wooden platform.

Bruce rolled off of her, looking back at the now broken bar. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were blown wide with adrenaline.

"I-I think that was a b-bat. My dad said they live here."

He turned over to her, and his face fell. Meredith had pushed herself up, sobbing into her knees.

"Marrie," he spoke softly, reaching over to her. Her head snapped up and shoved his hand away. She furiously wiped at the tears under her eyes. She hated Bruce seeing her cry.

"You said it was gonna be okay, Bruce!" she wailed. "It was _not_ okay!"

She stood up, staying as close to the wall as possible, and hurrying back up the stairs. She could tell Bruce was close behind her by the way the lights shut off again. She burst into the hallway of the Manor, relieved by the warm air and soft carpet. She made it halfway down the hall before stopping and huddling against the wall. Tears fell down her cheeks again.

Between her cries, she heard the door shut. Bruce was suddenly kneeling next to her, looking concerned and on the verge of tears himself.

"Meredith?"

"G—" A sob racked her small frame. "Go away."

He fell back into a seated position, slumping his shoulders and staring at her intently, the way Bruce always did when he felt guilty. He fiddled with his fingers. "I'm sorry, Marrie. I should've listened to you."

She somehow found some composure, looking up with blotchy eyes. She wiped the tears from her cheeks again. "You could've g-gotten hurt, I-I'm going to tell Uncle Tommy."

Bruce's eyes widened. "No! You can't! He'll ground me _forever_."

"S-so?"

"Meredith," Bruce grabbed her hand. "Please don't tell him. I'll... I'll sneak you extra puffs after dinner! And you can, uh... you can have the first slice of cake at my party next week!"

She frowned, crossing her arms. She sniffled again. Meredith usually enjoyed tattling, especially on Devin, but she didn't want to see Bruce get in trouble. She knew Uncle Tommy would not be happy, and she didn't like when he was mad.

She let out a shaky breath. "F-fine."

He beamed, tugging her into a tight hug that was usually foreign from Bruce. He pulled her to her feet. "You are the bestest, Marrie."

She was still struggling to release the tension from her limbs that were locked in fear. "I-I know."

He led her back down the hall and she rubbed her eyes again. They had almost made it back to the ballroom when a man rounded the corner, stopping once he saw them.

"Meredith! Bruce!" Thomas seemed relieved. "We've been looking everywhere for you two."

When he noticed Meredith's eyes, he was immediately concerned. He turned a hard, accusatory glare to Bruce. "Meredith, what happened?"

She glanced at Bruce, who stared at her with pleading blue eyes. She rubbed her cheeks. "W-we were playing tag a-and I... I hit my head."

"Oh my," Thomas' face softened. He walked towards them, running his calloused hand along her jawline. "How about we get you some dinner? Alfred made cheesy green beans, I know those are your favorite."

She sniffled again, wrapping her fingers around the hand Thomas extended for her. He put his other arm behind Bruce's back and led them back to the ballroom. They ran into Alfred on the way, who had the same expression Thomas did when he saw her.

"Heavens, Miss Meredith! What happened?"

She buried herself into Thomas' leg, who rubbed her hand with his thumb. "Meredith hit her head, Alfred, and she requires your finest plate of green beans."

Alfred nodded, immediately holding his hand out for her. "Right away. And Miss Meredith, you must be more careful."

She took his hand, hiccuping. "S-sorry."

As Alfred led her back to the kitchen, she turned around to look at Bruce, who gave her a guilty smile as his father ushered him into the ballroom.

Meredith sighed. Sometimes she didn't like her best friend.

* * *

A week later, Meredith arrived back at the gates of the Wayne Manor. Both she and Devin held boxes perfectly wrapped in yellow by their mother. She stood on her toes, balancing the present on one hand and ringing the doorbell with the other.

"This is dumb," Devin complained as the ring echoed like a church bell. "Why couldn't Mare just take my gift for Bruce?"

"Devin," her mother scolded. "Bruce comes to every single one of your parties, and I expect you to do the same."

"That's not by choice! You force me to invite him!"

"Devin, that's _enough_." Her father's voice was chilly with an air of finality to it. There was no arguing with Gregory Elias.

Her brother's shoulder sulked, muttering something about Thomas and "adult drinks." Thankfully for Devin, the big doors were suddenly pulled open, and Bruce's shining face greeted them.

"Meredith!" Bruce beamed. He looked as he always did, black hair slicked back and cheerful blue eyes. Today he wore gray pants, with a white shirt and black sweater vest.

"Hi, Brooch," Meredith giggled, knowing the nickname annoyed him.

He scowled but was interrupted by Devin shoving the yellow box into his hands and brushing past him.

"So, what kinda food did Alf make?" Devin questioned as he trailed off, presumably towards the kitchen.

Her father narrowed his eyes, turning to her mother. "I'm going to hurt that boy."

She scoffed, ignoring him and putting a smile back on her face. "Happy birthday, Bruce."

"Thank you, Aunt Eleanor," Bruce grinned as he stepped back and let them into the foyer of the Manor. Two figures appeared from around the corner, Thomas and Martha, both of who welcomed their friends.

"Hello, Uncle Tommy!" Meredith giggled, jumping and waiting for the man to pick her up like he always did. He stepped forward, setting down her present and swinging her in the air. She shrieked as he spun her around. When he stopped, she presented him with her pink dress. "Do you like my dress? It's new!"

"You look like a princess." He laughed. Meredith always liked when Thomas laughed, the way it shook his shoulders and his chest.

As he put her down, Meredith noticed another couple approaching the Manor. In between them was a small boy around her age, with wild blond hair.

Bruce apparently knew who he was, grinning as he set down Devin's present. "Oliver!"

"Hiya, Bruce!" The blond jumped, tossing a small blue box that Bruce barely caught. Meredith cocked her head. She'd never heard of this Oliver figure before.

Oliver ran inside, tackling Bruce, who giggled. Oliver's parents smiled, greeting the other adults in the room as they easily fell into light conversation. Oliver blabbed excitedly to Bruce, talking at a million miles an hour about some game or some book that Meredith didn't know anything of.

The blond's eyes flickered over to her. He paused, nearing her and extending his hand.

"Hi, I'm Oliver Queen!" he announced loudly, with the brightest smile Meredith had ever seen. She stared at his hand warily. She had watched her father greet many people like that before, but she'd never had someone do it to her. She cautiously reached out and shook it back.

"Um, I'm Meredith."

His face fell into a dramatic shock. "Ohhh, _you_ are Meredith! Bruce told me about you! He says you're really prett—"

Oliver received a hard slap on the back of the head from Bruce. The blond groaned, turning around to face the other boy. "Hey!"

Bruce gave him a panicked stare, spreading his hands out in confusion.

"What? I was telling her what you said!"

Bruce huffed, setting the presents down and grabbing Oliver by the arm, tugging the boy off into the mansion. The sound of them bickering faded away as they walked down the hall. Meredith cocked her head, staring at where they had gone.

Later on, Meredith sat in one of the many living rooms at Wayne Manor, watching Bruce and Oliver play some sort of game that they'd managed to rope Devin into. Oliver stood up proudly on the coffee table, yelling what was apparently a battle cry, before dramatically jumping off and tackling Bruce. The birthday boy laughed as Oliver pinned him to the ground. Devin, who was what Meredith guessed was the referee, declared Oliver the winner.

She tapped her heels together, watching them glint in the light. She had specifically taken extra time to polish her new shoes to make sure they looked good for the party. She looked up as Oliver was helping Bruce from the floor.

"Um, Bruce?" she spoke. "Would you like to go to the garden with me?"

Bruce and she usually liked to run around in the hedge maze outside. She was always impressed by his navigational skills and his specific knowledge of plants. He would inform her about different types of flowers his mother had shown him and where certain exotic fruits originated from. Sometimes, much to Alfred's chagrin, they'd steal some and run off to the swing set to have lunch.

Said boy looked up, cheeks red with excitement from his game. "Uh, maybe later, Marrie."

She blinked, understanding he just said turned her down.

"Oh. Okay."

She got up off of the couch, making her way to the kitchen. The roar of the boys' laughter quickly picked back up behind her. She scuffed the burgundy carpet with the soles of her shoes as she walked. Meredith had never had to share Bruce's time before. She didn't really like it.

"Hi, Meredith. What are you doing here by yourself?"

She looked up to find Martha staring at her with a smile.

Meredith didn't return the gesture. "Oh, hello, Aunt Martha. I asked Bruce to go to the garden with me, but I think he wants to play with Oliver and Devin."

Martha cocked her head. She had a look on her face that Meredith didn't quite understand. The sound of Bruce and Oliver screaming echoed down the hall. Martha smiled again. "Come with me. I have something for you."

"Something for me?" Meredith questioned as she started to follow the woman up the stairs. "But, my birthday isn't for two months. Today is Bruce's birthday."

"I know, but Bruce is busy right now. He gets to open his presents later," she explained as they reached the second floor. She walked her down past Bruce's room and to what Meredith knew as the master bedroom. The young girl had only been in there very few times, with the lush carpet, massive king-sized bed, golden curtains, and extravagant paintings.

Martha walked into her closet, which was paneled in oak wood and overflowing with expensive clothing. There was an island in the middle of the room with several drawers. Martha opened one, pulling out a long, velvet box.

Meredith tried to see what was inside but her height prohibited it. Martha finally sat down on a plush ottoman nearby and gestured for Meredith to sit next to her. The girl pushed herself up onto the red furniture, tucking her legs beneath her, waiting patiently to see what the woman had.

A small chain of pearls with a silver clasp was placed in her hands. Meredith furrowed her brows, moving it around gently. "What is it?"

"A bracelet," Martha smiled, taking the clasp and fitting it around her tiny wrist. Even with it secured, it still fell off and into Meredith's lap. "I have the matching necklace."

Meredith held it up to eye level, staring at it in the light. "It's really pretty. Why is it for me?"

"It's for always being Bruce's friend." The woman closed the box, standing up and placing it back in the drawer. "He likes you very much, Meredith. _And_ I think you'd look better in it than me. I've been meaning to give it to you for a while, but it's expensive and very precious, so I'll give it to your mom to hold onto until you're old enough to keep it.

There was a silence.

"Thank you," Meredith didn't take her eyes off of the bracelet, rolling it around in her hand. "It's very beautiful."

Martha gently removed the bracelet from her hands. "It was a gift from your Uncle Thomas. "

"Oh, i-is Uncle Tommy okay if I have it?"

"Of course, Mare. You know he loves you."

Meredith smiled, hopping off of the seat and hugging the woman's leg. Martha chuckled, patting her back. The woman led her out of the closet and back downstairs, doing what Martha always did and telling Meredith the history of the painting's on the wall as they passed each one.

After dinner, they sat around the long wood table filled with empty glasses of "adult drinks," apple cider, plates with food stains, and tiny servings of chocolate cake— Bruce's favorite. Meredith had taken a liking to Oliver, who was seated next to her. He was loud yet charming, and currently trying to convince Bruce to open his gift.

"Thank you, Uncle Gregory," Bruce grinned as he set aside the new set of Gotham Knights baseball cards, each one signed personally by their respective player.

"Come _onnn_ , do mine next!" Oliver was nearly jumping onto the table, shoving the present to Bruce.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Okay! Okay."

The birthday boy tore open the blue wrapping paper, revealing a box of what Meredith knew was cologne. Her dad often put it on before they went out, and Devin had shattered a bottle or two.

"I chose it myself!" Oliver announced proudly as Bruce stared at it with an unsure expression.

The adults at the table all laughed, and Meredith smiled, but she wasn't sure at what exactly. She didn't think Bruce was supposed to be using cologne.

"Um, thanks, Oliver," Bruce gave a quarter smile, setting the box along with the baseball cards.

Oliver beamed, sitting back down in his seat, now accomplished. Bruce then opened a game from Devin, some clothes from his mother, and a new skateboard from her parents. Meredith finally pushed her yellow box across the table.

Bruce gave her a smile before opening it. Meredith felt a little nervous— her parents were confused as to why she wanted to give this gift to Bruce, but she was convinced he would like it. Bruce finally pulled out the black fabric, tilting his head in confusion. He looked up at her.

"It's a cape!" Meredith giggled. "For when you're a villain."

Realization flickered across Bruce's face and he laughed, swinging the cape around his shoulders. He rubbed his hands together in an evil manner, before chuckling again. "Thanks, Marrie."

"Wait, wait!" Oliver shouted from next to her. "I want a cape too!"

There was a chorus of chuckles among the adults as Oliver ran around the table, trying to pull the fabric from Bruce. After all the presents were opened, Alfred shooed the children away so he could clean up the mess. Oliver and Devin had run off with Bruce's new skateboard, making some bet that they could each make it faster down Wayne Manor's long driveway than the other.

Saddened she was going to be left out again, Meredith started walking towards one of the living rooms.

"Um, Meredith?"

Meredith stopped halfway down the hall and turned around to find Bruce staring at her. He fiddled with the ends of the black fabric tied around his neck. She smiled.

"Hello, Bruce."

He blinked. "Would you... um, would you like to go to the garden with me now?"

Her eyes lit up. "Sure!'

They walked outside to the lush gardens of Wayne Manor, Meredith smiling and pointing out her favorite colored flowers on the way. The sun had just set, which meant the paths were illuminated with lights and the trees were lit up in a soft glow. Bruce's cape trailed behind him, tickling Meredith's ankles as she twirled around.

They reached a small alcove with a bench that had pink and purple bushes around the cobblestone path. Bruce paused and turned to her.

"Meredith—"

"Bruce, what are these flowers called?" Meredith bent down to pick a pink flower up, raising it to her nose.

"Um, they're hydrangeas, but also called hortensias. Meredith I—"

"Where are they from?"

"They're, uh, native to Asia and America. I was wondering—"

"Do you think your mom would notice if I took one?"

"Oh, um, probably not. I just—"

"I can't decide between pink or purple. What do you think?"

"Uh, purple is nice."

"Bruucee, that's the _wrong_ answer! I think I like pink."

"Have a pink one. Marrie—"

"What if I took two?"

"Meredith!"

Her hand dropped and she turned around to face him with wide eyes. Once her attention was on him again, he was fiddling with the end of his cape, staring at the ground.

"I was, um— well, Oliver was telling me about something, a-and he uh, said that you could... could help me with it?"

"Oh," Meredith nodded, tilting her head. "What do you need help with?"

Bruce glanced back down the path, tugging the cape around his body. His eyebrows were furrowed. His hair was wild from running around with Oliver and Devin. "Um, I-I don't know."

Meredith giggled, stepping forward and grabbing his hands. She swung them back and forth as she rocked on her heels. " _C'monnn_ , Brooch. Just tell me."

"I don't think you, uh, want me to."

"Are you _scared_ , Bruce?" Meredith teased.

"N-no! I just—"

"Just tell meee."

"Fine! B-but don't be mad! It was Oliver's idea!"

"Why would I be mad?"

Bruce stared at her for a moment, eyes darting back and forth between hers, before he leaned forward and planted a kiss on her lips. He immediately turned around and quickly walked back down the path, leaving Meredith stunned.

She stood there, flower in hand and lips parted in shock. She watched the black cape fluttering behind Bruce as he stomped into the house. Bruce just... just _kissed her_. But why? Maybe it was because they were friends, Meredith reasoned. Her parents were friends and they kissed all the time.

That was definitely it. Because they were friends. _Duh_.

She smiled.

Sometimes, she _did_ like her best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! While I have other books I should be writing, for some reason, I'm only updating this one lol. (I actually have up to chapter 10 saved in my drafts because I have issues). I hope everyone liked this chapter! It was fun to write all of them as kids haha. Thank you for all of the love and support so far!
> 
> xo Alexa


	8. Chapter 8

**_PRESENT DAY_ **

“Of course, Danielle, it’s always wonderful to see your gorgeous face.”

Dick kissed the top of the woman’s hand, who giggled before walking away. Jacob, her husband, flashed him a teasing look.

“Better not get any smart ideas, Grayson, or I might have to talk to Bruce.”

Dick chuckled, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Please, Jacob. We both know Bruce is hardly any better.”

The older man let out a hardy laugh, patting Dick on the arm and exchanging a few more pleasantries before walking after his wife. Dick turned around, making his way back through the crowd with a ghost of a smile on his face. As he’d gotten older, Dick had come to almost enjoy all of the high-class events he had to attend. It meant he got to put on a show, shmooze around and flirt with pretty women in fancy dresses. He almost always got away with it too— he was one of the Wayne children, after all, everyone already expected it out of him.

He arrived back at the round table decorated in lavish gold arrangements, shining glasses filled with apple cider, and silverware that sparkled from the chandeliers above. He adjusted his suit jacket as he took his seat next to Damian, who was still sulking at the fact that Bruce had forced him to come.

“Liven up, Little D,” he nudged the child’s arm. “Some of the people here are actually fun if you get to know them.”

Damian swatted his hand away, but it’s not like Dick wasn’t anticipating that. “Don’t call me that, you imbecile. And unlike you, I have better things to do than socialize with fools. Everyone here is just hungry for father’s money.”

“You’re such a joy to bring to a party,” Tim commented from his place on the other side of Damian, not looking up from his phone.

Damian growled. “Tell me I’m wrong, Drake. This isn’t even our city, we shouldn’t care about their police department.”

Dick was about to lecture Damian on the benefits of the Waynes being seen supporting the CCPD, but was interrupted by Bruce appearing from the crowd. He had on a fake smile, but Dick could tell that, like his youngest son, he wasn’t a fan of being there either.

Bruce sat down and plucked his glass of what looked like champagne from the table, but they all knew it wasn’t. It was always ginger ale— Bruce didn’t drink. Something about “ruining his body” or whatever. But no one ever dared to question what was in playboy Bruce Wayne’s cup, everyone just assumed the man loved to be drunk. “Damian’s still pouting?”

“I am _not_ pouting!”

“He’s _your_ son,” Dick smirked. “What do you think?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes.

“What are odds are that Jason’ll actually show this time?” Tim glanced up from his phone, interrupting Damian’s probable temper tantrum. “For once, I need him to look at a case for me.”

Dick shrugged. “Fifty-fifty.”

“Doubtful,” Damian scoffed. “Todd is scum. I don’t want to be seen with him, anyway.”

“Damian, don’t say that,” Bruce sounded like he was trying to be stern, but his attention was focused on the crowd of mingling people.

“Father, he’s tried to _kill_ you before.”

“So have you.”

Dick snickered as the small child huffed, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat once again. Movement suddenly pulled Dick’s eyes, and he noticed a man approaching Bruce. He looked oddly familiar, but Dick couldn’t place his name. Bruce caught Dick’s gaze, sitting up a little straighter as he prepared his playboy facade yet again.

The man— tall, with sandy brown hair and light eyes, tapped Bruce on the shoulder. Dick watched his adoptive father turn around with a pleasant smile, only for a startled look to wash over his features. Dick furrowed his brows. Bruce was never caught off guard.

“Devin?” Bruce’s voice fell out of his usual charming and suave tone.

The man grinned. “Hey, Shortstack.”

Dick’s eyes widened. _Shortstack?_ Who the hell refers to Bruce as _short?_

Bruce seemed genuinely surprised, which drew the attention of the rest of his brothers. “What are you doing here?”

“ _Hey, how are you, Devin?_ would be the appropriate response.” The man gave Bruce a look that said they knew each other, but Dick wasn’t sure how. He drew a blank when he racked his brain for anyone with his name.

Bruce rolled his eyes. Alright, so he _definitely_ knew this Devin figure if he was comfortable enough not to be polished in front of him.

“What do you want?”

Devin gently hit the top of Bruce’s head, disrupting his hair. “I’m looking for my sister.”

Sister? Who could be his sister that Bruce would know?

Shockingly, Bruce’s arm darted out and smacked the man’s hand back before readjusting his own hair. Dick was stunned. In his nearly 25 years on Earth, he had never seen Bruce hit someone, even jokingly, at an event where he wasn’t Batman.

“She doesn’t attend things like this.”

“Some technical issues happened with my parents' jet— they’re stuck in Aruba for the weekend. Mom’s bummed she’s missing it, so she asked one of us to fill in.”

“And _she_ doesn’t know you’re here?”

“C’mon, Bruce,” the brunette sighed. “You know Mare. If I told her I was coming in advance, she’d use it as an excuse to get out of her family obligations and sign me up for a weekend of press events.”

Bruce took a sip from his glass, angling his body away from the other man which indicated he was finished with the conversation. “I haven’t seen her.”

The other man rolled his neck, either not noticing Bruce’s body language, or not caring. He sat down in the empty seat which was supposed to be for Jason, who had yet to show. Devin snatched the tall glass from Bruce’s hand and took a long swig.

“Ginger ale? That’s lame.”

Irritation flickered across the vigilante’s face.

“Father,” Damian sounded as curious. Dick knew Damian didn’t like when anyone other than the small child was friendly with their father. “Who is this?”

Devin’s gaze turned to Damian, and his eyes widened. He turned and slapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Hey, this is the new son, right?”

Bruce now was blatantly annoyed. “Boys. Devin Elias.”

Recognition immediately clicked in his head. This was the eldest Elias child, who Dick had seen very, _very_ sparingly throughout his lifetime of socialite events. Dick didn’t know a ton about their family other than what he had learned from the media. The name Meredith Elias briefly floated around the Manor when he was younger, but Bruce usually shut down the topic before he could ask any real questions. Dick had always just assumed it was because their father Gregory had been friends with Thomas and that made Bruce uncomfortable.

Well, except for now, when Meredith was starting to get involved with the League. He tried to ask Bruce about that, too, but so far had received no comment.

Devin gave them a grin that was too genuine for someone at the party, and too happy for someone who was born in Gotham. “Uh… let’s see if I can get this right. I know you’re Dick, then there’s… Jason? No, I think you’re… Tim? Yes, Tim. And you’re the newest kid… um…”

“Damian,” the child snapped. “And how exactly do _you_ know father?”

A smirk pulled at Devin’s face and he slung an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “What, you mean Short Stuff? He’s like _my_ wittle bwother.”

Damian seemed agitated and mildly disturbed by the answer. Any trace of the playboy was long gone as Bruce scowled. “Go away.”

“Aw, Brucie, don’t be like that,” the man hummed, taking the arm around Bruce and ruffling his hair like one would a small child. Dick couldn’t help but chuckle. Watching Bruce get babied was strangely entertaining.

Bruce put his hand flat on the man's chest and shoved him back. The chair unceremoniously slid a foot away, but Devin didn’t seem deterred, or shocked in the slightest. Bruce once again fixed his hair, readjusted his tie, and stood up, trying to gain any semblance of composure. Devin was immediately out of his seat and grinning. Dick noticed the other man was two or three inches taller than Bruce.

The brunette took a hand and slid it from the top of his head, gliding it over Bruce’s. Devin gave a faux pout. “Guess you still got some growing to do, Kid.”

“Devin,” Bruce growled. “Knock it off.”

From what Dick could tell, Devin was now studying Bruce. His smile fell and his former amusement slowly disappeared. He looked confused, which made Dick’s skin prickle with warning. That was never a good sign.

“Bruce,” his voice was now soft, almost concerned. “What happened to your face?”

Dick widened his eyes and felt Damian stiffen next to him. Alfred worked tirelessly to ensure that no one would notice the damage on any of them caused by the Gotham underground. The Wayne’s couldn’t be seen looking like they’d just gotten in a fistfight the night before. But if Bruce was worried about the reasoning behind the question, he didn’t show it.

“What.”

The brunette reached out and pointed at Bruce’s nose. “It looks like you broke it a few times. Your jaw’s kinda fucked up, too. Have you been getting into fights or something?”

“Devin!”

A sharp, feminine tone pulled Dick’s attention. He looked past the two men to find Meredith Elias herself, marching towards them in a silver gown.

The taller man turned and spread his arms wide. “There’s my beautiful baby sis! How are—”

A hard slap was delivered across his face.

“ _You_ ,” the man groaned, caressing his cheek. “Nice to see you too, Mare.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Meredith sounded enraged.

Devin apparently forgot about the violence he had just experienced. “What, you don’t like my hair? I just got it cut, I thought it looked pretty g—”

“Shut up,” Meredith demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in town? There’s a fundraiser for EliasAir tomorrow and I would’ve signed you up to go if I knew you were here.”

Devin chuckled. “Now, see, Meredith, I _totally_ would’ve told you, but unfortunately, I’m busy doing anything but that tomorrow.”

She scoffed, seeming exasperated, as she turned and noticed the rest of the table.

“Boys.”

Dick smiled. Finally, he got to be involved in the conversation. “Ms. Elias. You look gorgeous, as always.”

While he only just said it as a nicety to most women at events, he really meant it to her. Meredith was always stunning. Growing up, he was somewhat shocked Bruce had never tried to go for her. If Dick was her age he definitely would have.

She briefly upturned her lip before she looked to his brothers. “Tim.”

“Meredith,” Tim gave her what Dick knew to be his genuine smile. “How was Manhattan?”

Dick was taken aback. And judging by the look on Bruce’s face, he was, too. How was _Tim_ , of all people, on a first-name basis with Meredith Elias?

“Same old.” The woman shrugged, stopping one of the waiters walking by with a tray of champagne and taking a glass. “By the way, I skimmed over the draft of your west coast expansion proposal— it looked well done. I was going to send you notes last night but I got distracted.”

Tim waved his hand. “Take your time. I don’t need it until next Tuesday.”

It was all Dick could do but keep his mouth from dropping. He knew Tim spent a lot of time working for Wayne Enterprises— it was always an unspoken fact that Tim was going to take over the company once he was old enough— but he didn’t realize the extent to which his younger brother was involved. Apparently, neither did Bruce, who kept a calm expression, but Dick could tell the man was fuming.

“I adjusted the presentation to account for Fernsby and Co,” Tim explained. “I figured I might try to contact Trevor Fernsby himself, but I wasn’t sure. I heard that he has a not-so-great impression of anyone from the East Coast conglomerates.”

Meredith tilted her head at the mention of the West Coast billionaire. The way she raised her brow was almost amused, or maybe even proud. Dick wasn’t sure which one.

“There’s a man over by the bar.” She paused to take a sip of the champagne. “Blonde hair, purple tie— CCPD Detective Blake Wordsall, otherwise known as the fiance of Carey Fernsby, Trevor’s sister, whose opinion he happens to highly regard. Maybe you should consider talking to him.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Right,” Tim’s face split into a grin as he nodded, standing up. He adjusted his red tie and fixed his hair as he started in the direction of the bar. “Thanks.”

“Be concise,” Meredith added, taking another drink.

“I will!” Tim called as he disappeared into the crowd.

Damian spoke before Dick had time to question anything. He was sort of grateful for that— Dick wasn’t sure where to start, what to ask, or who to direct his confusion towards.

“ _You_ ,” the youngest child pointed a glare at Meredith. “I know you. I’ve seen you before.”

She set down the now empty glass on the table. “Well, I’d assume so. I work with your father on occasion… Damian, is it?”

“It is.” He stuck his nose up pretentiously, and Dick caught himself from rolling his eyes. “But that is _not_ what I mean. You’re in photo albums, in the study at the Manor. Many of them. Why?”

Meredith seemed mildly surprised. “I am?”

“She is?” Dick turned to Bruce, who looked borderline ready to hurt everyone in the conversation.

Damian cocked his head. “You appeared… more traditionally attractive with darker hair.”

Silence.

“And _you_ appeared more _traditionally attractive_ when you weren’t talking.”

Damian hesitated, staring at the woman with a blank look. Dick assumed he was sizing her up, questioning how big of a threat she was to the small child. It’s what he did when he was offended. Dick supposed he also should’ve been slightly angry at her for speaking to his youngest brother like that, but he wasn’t exactly about to call out Meredith Elias. The woman seemed like she’d enjoy making him cry.

Damian finally smirked. “I suppose you’re acceptable, Elias.”

“Hm. Thank you for the reassurance.”

Dick was shocked as the newest Robin stood up from his chair and clasped his hands behind his back. “Father, I am going to retrieve another one of the drinks you refer to as a _Shirley Temple_.”

Damian strode away in the same direction Tim had gone, leaving the four adults at the table.

“Well, isn’t he a spitting image of his father?” Devin had a smile on his face.

Dick huffed exasperatedly. “Alright, I’m sorry. I really don’t mean to be rude, but, what’s going on here?”

“ _What’s going on here_ ,” Meredith began, ignoring his question and turning to Devin. “Is that _you’re_ going to talk to mom’s friend Jaquelyn, who just walked in.”

Her brother groaned. “Why _me?_ No one even knows I was going to show up.”

“Then it will be all the more pleasant when they’re surprised. Besides, I have to waste my time tomorrow at the office fundraiser because of _your_ failure to communicate. So go. _Now_.”

Devin rolled his eyes, nudging Bruce with his elbow. “Try not to blow a gasket while I’m gone, Shortstack.”

As he left, Bruce somehow managed to pull together his playboy act once again, apparently furious about Tim being friendly with Meredith. The only thing Bruce had ever really said to any of them regarding her was to try and refrain from socializing with her as much as possible. Which, come to think of it, Dick had really never questioned _why_.

“Meredith,” Bruce spoke through a smile. “A word.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t call me that. And I don’t owe you _any_ words. If you have a problem, take it up with Tim, who’s an adult.”

“ _Tim_ is seventeen.”

“And _I_ was nineteen when I took over my entire company. Sometimes he needs guidance, and _obviously,_ you can’t do that correctly, either.”

Bruce took in a deep breath, but didn’t need to say anything before Meredith’s attention was already focused elsewhere.

“Clark!” she called into the crowd behind them.

 _Oh, there was no way_ —

None other than Clark Kent, the Man of Steel himself, turned around. He broke into a smile when he saw her. “Meredith!”

He pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose as he approached them. Dick watched him make eye contact with Bruce, and Clark’s smile faltered. Dick almost laughed. He wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but Bruce couldn’t catch a break and it was kind of very hilarious.

“And… Bruce Wayne!” Clark greeted, holding his hand out. “Clark Kent, Daily Planet.”

Bruce returned the gesture, eyeing him with a knowing look. “I believe we’ve met.”

“I believe we have.”

“And _I_ believe,” Meredith interrupted. “That I owe _you_ a conversation, Kent.”

Clark chuckled nervously. “I… uh, _believe_ you do. Um, how about I get you a drink?”

She waved her hand. “I know the bartender. On me.”

She brushed past Bruce, Clark giving him an apologetic look as he followed the businesswoman off to the bar. Dick watched Bruce’s fists open and close.

“So, care to fill me in on what the _hell_ all that was?”

Bruce turned to him, narrowing his eyes. He then disappeared into the crowd. Dick sighed and sat back in his seat.

“Great,” he muttered. “I just _love_ being included.”

* * *

“He’s seriously _that bad_ of a cook?”

Clark was doubled over the bar, shoulders shaking as he laughed. Meredith couldn’t help but smile— the Man of Steel’s charisma was infectious.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, Clark.”

He sat up straight, cheeks slightly red. "I just can’t believe you had to show up at his house at two in the morning to stop him from burning his kitchen down.”

She rolled her eyes. “He was fourteen. I’m sure he’s gotten better since then.”

He gave her a questioning gaze.

“I mean, probably not, but let’s assume he has so I can actually look at the man with a straight face.”

Clark burst into laughter once again. She wasn’t quite sure why he found stories about young Bruce so funny, but it felt like a bit of an accomplishment to get this kind of reaction out of Superman himself.

Off to her right, Tim chatted up Detective Blake Wordsall, who appeared enthralled with the teenager. She had to admit, she was almost proud of Tim. He had come to her when he first developed an interest in Wayne Enterprises, and she didn’t need much convincing to take the boy under her wing. After all, she started running Elias Incorporated at the ripe old age of nineteen, so she knew the stress he was under to do things correctly. Plus, Tim was surprisingly pleasant, and when she couldn’t get a hold of Bruce, she usually turned to his son, who was more than happy to give her information.

Tim caught her eye and his smile brightened a little. She turned her head down in a nod. _Good job_.

Clark sat back up again, finally catching his breath. He pulled the bartender over and asked for another water. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t know Bruce was such… such a moron.”

She shrugged. “He was an adrenaline junkie growing up.”

“Makes sense,” Clark snorted.

“What do you mean?”

He paused for a second, the way he always did when he mentioned Bruce currently. “Once an idiot, always an idiot, you know?”

She chuckled. “I suppose.”

There was a silence.

“So,” he got cut off by the bartender putting a fresh glass of water on the counter. Clark thanked him. “Why aren’t you and Bruce friends anymore? It sounded like you two were close as kids.”

It was her turn to pause. That was a story she wasn’t really interested in telling. Or thinking about. Or referencing that it even happened. It was just better to forget— it had taken her this long to move on, and she didn’t plan on getting wrapped up in Bruce again anytime soon. Talking about childhood memories was bad enough, but Clark’s incessant laughter was a nice reward. She took a sip of her second champagne of the night. “I don’t really want to be sitting here for the next two days, Kent.”

He seemed to understand what she was getting at. “Ah. Bad blow out?”

“Something like that.”

“Hey, I finally got away from Jackie. Jesus, I forgot how that woman can talk.”

Meredith suddenly found Devin leaning against the bar, ordering some fancy concoction that she didn’t bother to remember. He always had a knack for expensive alcohol.

Devin suddenly noticed the other man. “Oh, who’s this?”

“Devin, Clark Kent. Clark, my brother, Devin.” Meredith gestured between the two.

“Nice to meet you,” Clark smiled. “Meredith told me about you a while ago.”

The bartender placed a light blue drink on the counter. Devin picked it up, flashing Clark a grin. “So I’m assuming you have a horrible first impression of me then?”

Clark chuckled. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get to hear much.”

Devin gave Meredith a curious look, and she rolled her eyes. Leave it to her brother to assume that any man she wasn’t at a conference table with was her new boyfriend.

“We’re friends from work.”

“Right…” Devin sounded unconvinced.

“ _Devin Elias?_ ”

The trio turned around, finding a blond man staring at her brother incredulously. Meredith would admit, the man was attractive, especially in his suit. All of the men surrounding her that night seemed to be.

“Barry Allen!” Devin left his drink on the counter, approaching the man with his arms wide, and embracing him in a tight hug.

The man known as Barry laughed as they separated, slapping Devin on the arm. “Dude! It’s been, like, a million years! How’s everything? How’s Miami? Shouldn’t you be surfing right now?”

Meredith was officially suspicious. Barely any people actually knew that Devin now lived in Florida, and even less knew that he was an avid surfer.

“Competition was canceled this weekend,” Devin sighed. “Tropical storm. That’s why I decided to show up.”

“Ah, man. Bummer.” Barry glanced at her and Clark. “Oh, hey, Clark. And you must be Meredith, right?”

She flashed him a fake smile, leaning towards the Man of Steel. “For a farm boy reporter, you sure know a lot of people here. Bruce Wayne, now this guy, what’s up with that?”

Clark chuckled, lowering his voice. “Just like you said, I’m a reporter. I get around.”

“Barry and I used to be pretty tight back in the day,” Devin interrupted, ushering the blond into their small group.

“Really?” Meredith sipped her champagne. “I’ve never heard of you, _Barry_. No offense.”

“Eight years ago is hardly, ‘back in the day,’ Dev.” Barry rolled his eyes. “I’m a forensic scientist for the CCPD, I met Devin… on a case I was working on a few years back.”

“Yeah, _a case_.” There was a twinkle in her brother’s eyes, one Meredith knew he only got when he was up to no good. She furrowed her brow.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Devin glanced between Barry and Clark.

There was the pause again. The same pause that Clark had when mentioning Bruce. Meredith set down her glass. There was something strange going on among the three men. She glanced at Clark, who was staring at Barry, almost as if he was waiting to see what the blond’s answer would be.

“He’s a friend from work,” Barry finally said.

Clark nodded in agreement, seeming somewhat relieved, but Meredith knew that excuse. After all, she had _just_ used it on her brother to explain how she was familiar with Clark. _Barry was lying._

“You work for the Planet, too?” Meredith asked, knowing very well that wasn’t true.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hang on.” Devin turned to Barry, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes. “What _work_ exactly? Like, work? Or, _work_ work?”

She stared at her brother like he was crazy. Something _definitely_ was going on, and Meredith didn’t enjoy being out of the loop. “The hell is _work work?_ ”

The pause happened again. It was one of those moments where her brain reverted back to a six-year-old and she wanted to stomp her foot. _What was this goddamn pause?_

Devin gasped, spinning around on his heel to face Clark.

“ _You’re_ Superman?”

A lot of things occurred at once. Meredith’s eyes widened, Barry’s hand flew over Devin’s mouth, shushing him, and Clark went rigid. How on Earth did _Devin_ , who barely showed up to see his own family, much less attend social events, figure out the identity of Superman? And who did that make the blond guy?

For the first time, she genuinely thought back to what she knew about the members of the Justice League. How would he figure out Clark, if this Barry figure wasn’t one of them? That was the only theory that made sense to her, but none of the Leaguers were blond.

She studied the blueness of his eyes, the way his frame filled out his suit, and his narrow jawline. He was lean, so she ruled out Batman. Probably not Green Arrow, who was stalkier and broader chested. He clearly wasn’t a half robot. She already knew who Superman was. Green Lantern was a brunette, and Wonder Woman was an obvious no. So that only left—

“ _Flash_ ,” she spoke, furrowing her brow. “Aren’t you?”

Barry looked like he’d seen a ghost. His eyes flitted over to Clark. That explains the constant glances and vague answers the two shared.

Devin cringed, switching frantically between the three of them. “ _Shit_ , uh, I didn’t know that Mare didn’t know who everyone was. I just figured, ya know, the media said she’s working with League now, I-I just assumed—”

She narrowed her eyes. “ _You_ know who _everyone_ is?”

“Not everyone!” He held his hands up in defense. “Barry saved me once a while back, that’s how we met. And... I guess I now know Clark _,_ too.”

Clark and Barry both turned to the older man with the same expression.

“Uh, sorry, guys.”

She faced the blond. “So _you’re_ reallyFlash?”

“Guilty.” He glared at Devin. “Nice to see you again, Meredith. By the way, Clark and I were both a fan of your proposal on Wednesday.”

Clark huffed, lowering his voice once again. “Can we _not_ all scream it out loud? And Meredith, do us a favor and don’t mention this at the next meeting.”

“Oh, man,” Barry groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Batman’s gonna kill us.”

“ _Batman…_ he… wouldn’t, by chance, happen to be here, too, would he?”

Meredith turned to Devin, who looked mischievous. While she usually took her brother for a moron, he was hardly anything but. A happy-go-lucky Floridian surfer, sure, but he was still an Elias. No one in her family was dumb. “What, are you taking it upon yourself to figure out all of their identities now?”

He looked at her. “I’m surprised _you’re_ not. You _are_ the one working with them.”

Suddenly the temperature dropped. She paused, looking at the three men, who seemed equally confused. The room started to become freezing. She glanced down at her empty champagne glass, where ice now crackled along the edges. She would’ve assumed it was an air conditioning malfunction, but frost was developing too quickly for that to be true.

The rest of the party started to notice too, the live music coming to a halt and the crowd stopping their chatter. Everyone stared at each other. Frost started to develop on the windows, creeping along all of the bottles behind the bar.

“What’s going on?” Meredith questioned. It was slightly reassuring to know that she had two members of the Justice League next to her.

“I… don’t know,” Clark muttered, glancing around.

“I think it’s—”

Even for the fastest man alive, Barry didn’t have time to finish his sentence before the doors to Central City Hall exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I was really excited about posting this chapter- I love writing about the batboys lol. Thanks for all of the love and support so far!!
> 
> xo Alexa


	9. Chapter 9

The doors to Central City Hall exploded.

Clark was immediately in front of her, blocking whatever glass or debris was flying their way. Screams ricocheted throughout the large room and people started to run everywhere. Women tripped over long dresses, the band hurriedly left the small stage in the corner, and several men pulled out guns and police badges from inside their suit jackets.

What kind of idiots would attack an event with the entire CCPD already there?

When things seemed slightly stable, she poked her head out from around Clark. She saw commotion going on at the entrance to the building, and what looked like blue lasers flying out from the crowd.

“What the hell is that?” she shouted over the screaming, turning to Barry. Apparently, since he was now Flash, this was his city.

Barry responded with something she couldn’t make out. She furrowed her brows.

Devin leaned into her ear. “He said it’s Captain Cold!”

“Who?”

“Down!” Clark suddenly yelled, shoving all three of them out of the way. A wave of cold blasted where they had once stood. She pushed herself off the floor, heart racing, to make sure everyone was okay. Devin stared at her with wide eyes.

She noticed there were only three of them now. “Where’s Barry?”

Suddenly the iconic red speedster was standing in front of them, eyes filled with worry but a smirk on his face. “Hey, Cap! Crashing the party? Super not cool, dude.”

A man appeared from the crowd. He had on dark sunglasses with a massive blue parka, and a large, silver gun in his hand. He snarled. “Oh, shut up.”

The policemen in the room now formed a line between the crowd and the villain, guns raised. If it couldn’t get any worse, a large figure dropped from the skylight on the roof, glass shattering all over the floor. Clark was back in front of Meredith and Devin.

The room seemed to get even colder, and suddenly Devin was dragging Meredith to her feet. He pulled her around the bar and down the staff hall, barely missing another blue blast. Meredith was slightly impressed with Devin’s quick thinking. She was too stunned to remember that there was a back exit to the ballroom.

As they ran down the hall, they saw a man headed in the same direction as them.

“Bruce!” Devin called.

Bruce turned around, angry and brows set with determination. His features slightly settled into feigned shock as he saw them.

“Where are the boys?” Meredith asked as they briefly slowed down.

“They’re fine,” Bruce said, not taking his eyes off of the entrance to the ballroom. “They went out the front.”

“And where are _you_ going?” Devin sounded accusational, like they weren’t all in impending doom. Meredith stared at him incredulously. He was seriously asking that _now?_

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Making sure no one comes in the back.”

Devin crossed his arms. “ _A huh_. And… how, exactly, are you planning to fend off supervillains, Kid?”

Bruce didn’t answer as the door at the end of the hallway opened. Alarms started blaring as the emergency exit was unlocked, and a man dressed in red and black, with a silver mask, stood in the doorway. One of his eyes was red, and he had multiple weapons strapped to his body.

Meredith noticed Bruce’s fists immediately ball up. She prayed he wouldn’t do anything dumb against… whoever the other man was. She had a great, _great_ dislike for Bruce, but she didn’t want him dead, either.

“Meredith Elias!” The man spread his arms in a greeting. There was a gun in his hand. Her heart momentarily froze. “Just the woman I was looking for!”

He held the gun up to them. “You’re gonna need to come with me.”

She found herself speaking, slowly opening up her silver clutch behind her back. “And why would I do that?”

“You’re not the one with the gun here, beautiful. You’re not in any position to be asking that.”

She slightly chuckled. “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it?”

The man was suddenly flying back, the door, and most of the wall around the frame going with him. Meredith stood there, a small silver device in hand, breathing heavily.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Devin turned to her with massive eyes.

There was a pause.

“What, you don’t carry a sonic resonance emitter with you?”

Bruce stared at her with an indescribable look on his face. Meredith shook her head, snapping her clutch shut and walking through the blown-out wall.

“You call _that_ an SRE?” Devin called from behind her. “An SRE is for vibrational frequencies. That was _not_ just a vibrational frequency!”

She stepped carefully around the rubble, taking in the dark downtown street of Central City. It was in utter chaos. Firetrucks and ambulances wailed down the block, hordes of people ran in every direction, and explosions rang from inside the Hall.

“So it’s a slightly modified SRE,” Meredith spoke as Devin caught up to her. “Big deal.”

She finally came to a halt, glancing back at the unconscious man lying in the rubble. He seemed to be fairly knocked out, so she assumed he wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. “Who’s that?”

She turned to Bruce, who finally made his way through the pile of exploded concrete. He shrugged.

“I think his name’s Deadshot,” Devin answered. “I’ve seen him on the news before. Why’s he here for you?”

Meredith’s breath was still slightly unsteady. “How am I supposed to know? I wasn’t in any position to ask questions, remember?”

The sound of another explosion was heard. Superman was flying out of the side of City Hall, carrying two figures in his hands. He dropped them to the ground with an unconscious thud. Two large trucks, both labeled “BELLE REVE” on the sides, sped down the street, stopping at the figures. Men dressed in black body armor jumped out from the vehicles, snapping what looked like collars onto the two criminals. Superman exchanged a few words with the officers.

Flash was in front of her with panicked eyes, blocking her view. “Hey, sorry about that. Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine. I—”

Meredith was interrupted by Superman landing next to her. “Is everyone alright? I heard something going on in the back, but I was a little distracted with Mister Freeze.”

He glanced towards the rubble and noticed Deadshot’s body. His brow raised. “Who did _that?_ ”

“Meredith,” Devin replied.

“What?”

“Everyone _shut up_ ,” Meredith glared at the men. “Does anyone know what’s going on?”

“Deadshot said he was here for Meredith.” Devin crossed his arms. Superman still seemed skeptical as he walked over, picking up the unconscious body with ease.

Flash furrowed his brows. “That doesn’t make any sense. What’s Deadshot doing in Central City?”

“Maybe Cold and Freeze were distractions so Deadshot could grab Meredith?” Superman suggested as he passed them, dragging the criminal over to the blockade of Belle Reve vehicles.

“Doesn’t seem right.” Flash shook his head. “I’ve read a lot of case reports on Deadshot— he usually works alone. And besides, he’s a merc. He was probably hired by someone.”

“So you’re saying that they were two separate attacks?” she asked.

He nodded. Meredith suddenly noticed a fraction of movement next to her. She tilted her head ever so slightly, finding Bruce slinking away from the group.

“Wayne, where the hell are you going?”

The man froze. Both Devin and Barry turned in surprise, apparently having not noticed Bruce’s attempted disappearance.

Bruce looked at her with a blank face. “Home.”

“Home?” she repeated. “How are you going to get home in _this?_ ”

She gestured to the street in front of them which was quickly filling up with emergency vehicles and news crews. Suddenly, another figure dropped down from somewhere, landing next to Barry. Meredith eyed him as he stood to his full height. He had a mop of black hair with a mask covering his eyes, and a blue symbol splayed across his suit.

“And who might you be?” Meredith asked.

He flashed her a charming grin, tilting his head. He struck her as younger than the other heroes in the group. He reached forward and grabbed her hand, and she had to stop herself from reacting.

“Name’s Nightwing.” He kissed the top of her hand before dropping it. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Elias. You’re even more beautiful in person than you are on the news.”

She thought for a moment.

“You’re one of the Robins.”

The man groaned, his hands falling to his sides. “I’m never escaping that, am I?”

Clark now rejoined the group. “I think Cold and Freeze were a distraction, but not for Deadshot. There’s a new artifact Cyborg was telling me about, one he helped excavate at an ancient Incan site—”

“The Rose Stone,” Meredith finished. “I’m supposed to be attending its opening event at the Gotham Museum next week.”

“Right,” Clark said. “I just overheard a few officers talking about it. I think it’s supposed to be passing through Central City today— they’re using private security to transport it, but since the CCPD Fundraiser is tonight, police response would’ve been slow if there was going to be a robbery.”

Barry nodded from next to her. “Okay, great, so we’ll just go handle whoever’s trying to take it and—”

“Hang on,” Nightwing interrupted, holding his hand up to his ear. Meredith assumed he was talking to someone over a comm. “Yeah... right… Firefly? _A bomb?_ What do you mean there’s a bomb? _A huh_ … how do you know— _shit_. The nuclear plant? Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can, just stay on his trail. Nightwing out.”

Nightwing looked at the group. “Red Robin says that Firefly set some sort of bomb at the CC Nuclear Planet. Apparently, if he doesn’t get the Rose Stone he’s blowing up the city.”

So now not only was someone out to kill her, but the Rose Stone was being hijacked by a group of cold-themed criminals, and this Firefly character was going to blow up the city if he didn’t get his hands on it first. Meredith almost sighed. Her job was getting increasingly strange.

Meredith took a step forward, squaring her jaw. She had never coordinated a team of superheroes before, but she ran a billion-dollar company with a thousand moving parts every day, so how hard could it be?

“Okay. Here’s the— _Wayne,_ stop trying to run away! What’s wrong with you? Are you _actively_ looking to get killed?”

Bruce stopped once again, turning around and seeming slightly angry. “I’m _looking_ to get the hell out of this city before we all get blown up.”

“Then _you_ can come with _me_ and take care of the media,” she grabbed his arm and tugged him in front of her. He begrudgingly moved, but not as much as she would’ve liked. “So _sit here_ for one second and stop moving like a petulant _child_ while we figure out how to save everyone from impending doom.”

Nightwing suddenly made a noise that sounded like a stifled laugh. She looked at him, and the whites of his mask widened. “Sorry, sorry. Not funny.”

“I’ll go after the Rose Stone—” Barry rushed.

Meredith put a hand on his arm. “No, doesn’t make sense. You’re a scientist, go with Superman and handle the bomb. Nightwing, go with the rest of the Robins and take care of the Stone, get it into Gotham if you can—”

“Oh, c’mon, I’m _not_ one of the Robins!”

“—Wayne, Devin, you’re both coming with me. Everyone, try to limit collateral damage as much as possible so it can look like I’m somewhat doing my job. And can _someone_ get in contact with Batman?”

“Sure,” Clark said as he started hovering above the ground. “I’ll, uh, see if he’s available.”

He was gone in a boom of speed, and Barry chuckled. “One time we actually need the guy and he isn’t here. Ironic, huh?”

There was another burst of air and the speedster was gone. From next to her, Nightwing was pulling what looked like a gun with a metal hook from his belt. He aimed it upwards, and a thin rope shot out of it.

“Thanks for the directive, Ms. Elias.” He grinned, gently taking her hand and kissing it again. “Your reputation truly _does_ proceed you. Hopefully, we’ll get to talk again soon, maybe over less dire circumstances.”

She scowled as he turned to Bruce, and his grin widened. “Stay safe, Mr. Wayne. Try not to get yourself into too much trouble— it would be a _shame_ if the face of Gotham got damaged.”

With that, he shot up into the sky and disappeared into the dark.

When she turned back to the two men, Bruce was already storming off down the sidewalk.

“Wayne!” she called, having to almost jog to catch up to him. Maybe it was just his long strides, but when had he gotten so fast? Devin was right behind her as she grabbed Bruce’s wrist. He turned around, now visibly mad.

“ _What_.” The bite in his voice was harsh and cold, eyes flickering dangerously. It was hardly the first time in her life she’d ever seen Bruce mad, especially at her, but nowadays he usually only displayed passive playboy irritation. It was a little shocking.

“Where are you trying to go?”

“I need to _leave_.”

“The streets are going to be backed up for miles, there’s no way you’re getting out. Let’s just handle the media—”

“Meredith,” Devin interrupted. She looked over to her brother, whose eyes didn’t leave Bruce’s face. “Let him go.”

She was now slightly confused. She figured Devin would’ve been on the side of keeping Bruce safe— apart from maybe their mother, who was a nurse with a bleeding heart (whose heart _unfortunately_ still bled profusely for Bruce, even though she would never admit it), Devin was the only member of her family who really gave a shit about the Prince of Gotham. “What? Why?”

“Just let him. I’ll come with you and speak to the press.”

“I—” she was interrupted by the sound of clambering news reporters getting louder, a large crowd forming at steps of Central City Hall. She sighed. “Fine. Whatever. If you die, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

There was no response as Bruce was stalking down the street once again, disappearing into the horde of oncoming pedestrians. She gave a questioning look to Devin, who just waved her off as he walked over towards the front of city hall. She began to follow him, but couldn’t help the way her head momentarily turned back around in the direction Bruce had gone.

Hopefully, she wasn’t going to have to start preparing a speech to speak at that asshole’s funeral. Again.

* * *

They had just addressed the news reporters, who were honestly more shocked that the eldest Elias child was back on the East Coast than the fact that city hall was partially in ruins. She’d give it to her brother— even though he hated anything to do with the company, the press, or their family name, he was good at playing it up for the media when he had to— maybe even better than her. She felt a little like the dumb, younger sister again, standing back as she watched Devin give experienced smiles and charming one-liners to the crowd.

He finally stepped out of the circle of people, ignoring strobes of camera flashes and the constant shouting of their names as he led her away. He moved swiftly around desperate women and hungry gossip-column writers with a certain nonchalant grace that she had yet to master— in a way, Devin was everything that Bruce tried, and failed, to be.

She internally chuckled. Bruce was lucky that her brother had no desire for their lifestyle, or else he would have some serious competition.

The police finally began to form a barricade of officers, separating them from the onslaught of the media. Devin’s charming smile fell into an unusual look of disdain as he turned to her.

“I hate doing that. I don’t know how you willingly sign up for that every day.”

The midnight wind picked up, ripping against her skin. Much to her chagrin, Devin immediately had his suit jacket off and around her shoulders. She rolled her eyes but didn’t decline the gesture. “I sign up for the business, the greedy information vultures are just an unfortunate bonus.”

He snorted at the description. He then jolted, apparently receiving a notification on his phone. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced down. “Looks like mom and dad just boarded their flight back from Aruba. They wanna have dinner tomorrow night, mom says you need to come.”

“Tell her thanks but no thanks. I’ll talk to her later if I find the time.”

He typed the response, and a moment later he smirked. “Dad says that he’s going to call the directors from your Kord Industries meeting tomorrow and tell them to cancel if you don’t.”

She narrowed her eyes. “He doesn’t even have the jurisdiction to do that— the company’s in my name now. How does he know I have a meeting with them?”

Meredith already knew the answer. She had a powerful name, but Gregory Elias was an original Gotham big business owner, and regardless of if he ran the company or not, no one ever said no to their father.

“C’mon, Mare. When’s the next time we’re all gonna be able to eat dinner together again?”

“Probably Christmas.”

“Yeah, and that’s only if you don’t ditch out on most of it like you did last year.”

“I had a three billion dollar proposal presentation the next day.”

“I’m telling them you’re coming.”

“Whatever.”

He stood there and tapped on his phone, and she sighed. Her secretary, Janette, wasn’t going to be happy to find out that she was going to have to reschedule Meredith’s call tomorrow night for the _third_ time this week.

There was a sudden burst of air, which made her grip the sides of Devin’s jacket to keep it from falling off. Standing in front of them, illuminated by red and blue lights from the emergency vehicles, was Flash.

“Hey, thanks for the help with the media,” he said, sounding briefly out of breath. “Supes got rid of the bomb, I just put Firefly back in jail, Batman and the Robins are taking care of the Stone which is now on its way to Gotham again. There’s a little bit of damage to the roof of the nuclear plant and obviously to city hall but nothing major—”

“I already called in construction crews.” Meredith waved her hand. “Elias Incorporated will reimburse it so the bill doesn’t fall on Central City’s taxpayers.”

“Any word on the Deadshot situation?” Devin asked. “We still don’t know why he was after Meredith.”

Barry shook his head. “Nah, but give Bats, like, two to three business hours and he should have whoever hired Deadshot behind bars.”

Devin chuckled. They fell silent as the echo of a man’s voice was being amplified down the block, sounding like he was giving orders.

“I should go get things sorted out with the police commish,” Barry said. “Dev, let’s catch up next time you’re in town. Meredith, I’ll see you at the meeting Wednesday?”

She nodded.

“Alright, Flash out.” He gave them a crooked grin and a two-finger salute, and then the spot in front of them was empty. She patted her hair down from the sudden rush of air created by the speedster.

There was a moment of quiet, and then Devin barked out a laugh.

“Your job is so weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm not really sure how I feel about this chapter, and it's a little shorter than usual because I honestly just couldn't figure out what else to add lol. I wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone for all of the kudos and comments, it really means a lot! It's nice to know that everyone's enjoying this story as much as I am!
> 
> xo Alexa


	10. Chapter 10

Bruce rolled his neck, straining the muscles of his back as he made his way to the front of the Manor. The incessant ringing of the doorbell sounded like a small child was standing outside. Every bone in his body screamed out of soreness— the mission yesterday had been a success, but a part of him wished it hadn’t been. Meredith had taken it upon herself to call the shots, and he was irritated with himself for letting her do so. The punching bag in the cave paid the price.

Alfred was gone for the afternoon, which left the unfortunate job of answering the door to him. The bell continued to ring. Bruce bit his teeth to stop himself from yelling at whoever it was to _shut the fuck up_ because he was tired and he was sore and he still had a multi-billion dollar conglomerate to expand across the country and he still had four kids and he still had a world-renowned organization of superheroes to run that was currently being taken over by his childhood crush and all he wanted was a _goddamn coffee_ but he couldn’t seem to find any and—

He pulled open the brass handles with ease, and standing in front of him with his arms crossed was Devin Elias. Bruce caught himself from rolling his eyes. He was right— a small child _was_ at the front.

“What.”

“I know you’re Batman.”

Bruce felt like he should’ve been more threatened, or shocked, or terrified at that sentence, and maybe it was the fact that he was on the verge of passing out, or maybe it was the fact that he knew it was coming, judging by the way Devin was staring at him the night before, but Bruce honestly couldn’t find it in himself to truly care.

“So.”

Devin seemed surprised. “What, you’re not even going to _try_ and hide it?”

Bruce tilted his gaze down at the cup of coffee in the older man’s hand that was creating a cloud of steam in the cold Gotham air. “I’ll explain if you give me that.”

“Wha—” Devin looked down. “The coffee? That’s _really_ all it’s going to take to get you to talk? I figured I was going to have to present you with a ten-page essay on my evidence before you even let me in the door.”

Bruce was silent. Devin scoffed, handing over the drink, and Bruce stepped back to allow him inside. Suddenly rounding the corner into the foyer was Dick, dressed in flannel pajama pants with his hair sticking up in eleven different directions. He’d stayed overnight after the fiasco in Central City, too tired to drive back to Bludhaven, also informing Bruce that he didn’t want to deal with whatever argument he and Kori were currently in.

It was four in the afternoon and Dick was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Hey, who the hell keeps ringing the— _oh_. Uh, Mr. Elias, right?”

The man groaned. “Please, it’s just Devin. ‘Mister’ makes me feel like my dad.”

“Alright, _Devin_ , um, sorry for my lack of shirt, but what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m just confronting Bruce about how I know he’s Batman.”

Dick was suddenly standing up straight. He chuckled slightly, turning his gaze to Bruce. “ _Batman? Bruce?_ Don’t be crazy.”

Bruce took a sip of the coffee, eager to not feel like he was on the brink of death, but scowled at the sweet taste. He liked his coffee black— of course Devin had his loaded with more sugar than the actual drink. He supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Don’t bother. He knows.”

“Oh.” Dick seemed to slightly relax. “Well, uh, welcome into the club of knowing Gotham’s biggest secret, I guess. How did you find out?”

“Wasn’t hard.” Devin smirked, throwing a lazy arm over Bruce’s shoulders. “He was always a weird kid— seems like something he would do.”

Dick's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he burst into laughter.

“Devin, if this was all you came for, you can leave.” Bruce shrugged the arm off, walking in the direction of the kitchen. He needed to find something tart— something that didn’t taste like what he shouldn’t be putting in his body.

“No, no!” Dick finished laughing, the two of them beginning to follow Bruce down the hall. “Hang on! I don’t know what’s happening, but I know that _everyone_ seems to know something _but me_.”

They entered the kitchen, and Bruce walked over to one of the many drawers. He found a box of cookies— they were thin and high in fiber and tasted like nothing. Perfect. “This doesn’t concern you. Go home.”

His eldest child seemed genuinely offended, even though he carried a light tone. “Uh, excuse me? _I_ was the first son! _I’ve_ been here the longest but apparently, _Tim_ knows Meredith, and no one knows how that happened, Damian’s seen her in photo albums that I’ve never heard about in my _life_ , and now _this guy_ treats you like… like a _friend_ and no offense, but I’ve literally seen him twice and have never talked to him before last night. What gives?”

He knew that Dick felt left out. The boy prided himself on being the caring one of the family— he tried his hardest to get everyone a good gift for each holiday, to show up to family events and be the most charming person in the room, to be a good role model to his younger brothers and know everything about them so he could offer helpful advice when they needed it.

Bruce was proud of his son, but that was also the reason why he tried to keep information about his own childhood locked away. His kids— specifically Dick— liked to pry. They liked to be involved in most aspects of Bruce's life, especially the parts that weren't as serious or dark or Bat-themed. Dick loved to be in the loop, if for no reason other than that he could crack jokes at Bruce's expense in the field. Dragging Wayne humor into Bat business was something Bruce had never managed to breed out of his eldest son. He didn't need to add any more fuel to Dick's fire— he was still hearing Cat and Bat jokes with the name Selina Kyle being thrown around almost weekly, and Bruce had stopped romantically involving himself with her more than two years ago.

Bruce was different now. He had put in tireless amounts of work to reinvent himself, his body, his public image. His first years as Batman were harsh, with long, brutal nights and a sleep schedule that was borderline more dangerous than any villain at the time. (He'd only slept for twenty-minute intervals after every four hours, because there was so much to learn and do and _perfect_ and sleeping even _somewhat_ regularly got in the way of that. That had gone on for years). At least now, with four trained sons and a mostly stable Justice League, Bruce had transitioned into getting three or four— _maybe_ five, if Alfred got his way— consecutive hours of sleep.

Anything pre-Batman was almost like a different life. His kids didn’t have a place in that.

They knew that his parents died. Alfred raised him. He went to Gotham Academy. Then he went away for five years to become what he is now. He came back. That was all they needed to know. He could’ve even done without mentioning the Gotham Academy part, but it was the only way to convince each of them to go— because that’s where their father went and as kids, they all wanted to be like him.

“Tim knows Meredith through Wayne Enterprises, Damian is just getting into places he shouldn’t be. Devin _isn’t_ a friend, he’s an _irritation_ that should be heading back to Florida.” Bruce didn’t need to look behind him to know that the older man was either rolling his eyes or mocking him.

“That’s the vaguest and horribly understated thing you’ve ever said, Shortstack.” Devin turned to Dick. “He’s seriously never told you about me? I’ve only known him for his _entire life_ — I literally _held him_ as a baby.”

Dick furrowed his brow, crossing his arms and leaning against the kitchen counter. “Honestly, if it weren’t for the media, I wouldn’t even know you exist.”

Bruce bit into the cookie and the dry crumble of it combatted the sugary drink. He could feel the caffeine working its way into his system. Slightly less on the verge of dying, but now annoyed with Devin’s unexpected visit. He was getting there.

“For real?” Devin slapped Bruce on the shoulder. “You’ve failed to mention me _at all_? I taught you how to drive!”

“You _what?_ ” Dick widened his eyes.

A growl was starting to make its way up Bruce’s throat. He didn’t want to be having either of these conversations. He turned to the taller man. “What are you here for.”

“You said Alfred taught you how to drive!”

Devin gave a mischievous grin. “That’s what we always told people.”

“Who even _are_ you?”

“I’m the original oldest sibling in this house, kid.”

“Huh?”

“Devin.” Bruce put the box back in the drawer and slammed it shut. “Either tell me what you want or _get out_.”

The brunette sighed. “Well, honestly, I thought most of this conversation would be taken up by me trying to get you to admit you were actually Batman, but I—”

Bruce narrowed his eyes.

“Okay, okay! I wanna know what’s going on with you and Meredith and the Justice League. Why is she working with _you?_ I assume that means she doesn’t know you’re Batman, because she would never have agreed to it if she knew it was you. But I don’t get how you pulled that off since it’s, ya know, _Meredith_ , so... what, did you sell your soul to the devil or something? How did you even get into the Bat business? Everyone says you have a cave? What the fuck is a ca—”

“ _Meredith,_ ” Bruce interrupted, “got interested in the League because _Oliver_ messed up—”

“Oliver?” Devin narrowed his eyes. “Oliver who? Oliver _Queen_? Why the hell is he—” Devin drew in a long gasp. “ _Holy shit,_ he’s that archer guy from Star, isn’t he? Oh my God. Why didn’t I see that sooner? They have the same facial hair! Why does no one else notice that? He’s always been a good shot, it’s no wonder...”

He froze as the older man continued to ramble. Devin was picking off the League’s identities like cherries. Bruce didn’t mean to expose Oliver, but he supposed he should’ve known that Devin would connect the blond to Green Arrow. A part of him didn’t care. If Oliver wanted to be so frivolous and get Meredith involved, maybe it’s what he deserved.

Besides, it wasn’t Bruce’s issue that he was the only one who could keep a secret identity. It was Barry’s fault for telling Devin who he was, and Clark’s fault for not being more cautious around Meredith. _And_ it was Diana’s fault for blatantly introducing herself. Bruce could only assume Hal would soon follow in suit— the Lantern had a hard time staying away from pretty women. At least Victor seemed composed.

It had been a whole _five days_ and everything was already spiraling out of control. If Bruce didn’t start doing damage control soon, she would eventually find out who Oliver was, and then Bruce himself, and then they would be screwed.

That is, if Meredith didn’t already know who he was. He wouldn’t put it past her. He _did_ let his guard down long enough to allow her to pull a smoke pellet from his pocket, which he still beat himself up for every night.

“...and of course both of you got into the ‘billionaire by day, vigilante by night’ biz. Only you two would be crazy enough to do it. Hey, why didn’t _I_ get an invite? I have enough money...”

Bruce needed to get Devin alone. He didn’t feel like catching Dick up to speed— he had about forty years of history he needed to go through in order to do that— and the sooner he got Devin out, the faster Bruce could work on regaining control of everything.

Bruce let out a breath. “Come with me.”

He led them down the hallway towards the study. He opened the large oak doors, allowing Devin in, but putting a hand out to stop Dick. He glared. “Not you.”

His son’s mouth dropped, tilting his head. “You’re _not_ serious.”

“Go shower. You look like a mess.” He closed the door on Dick’s gaping face.

Complaints were heard echoing down the hall as Bruce turned around to face Devin, who was eyeing him suspiciously.

Bruce huffed. “Meredith figured out Oliver and I are funding the League. She wanted in, so she announced to the public she was handling League collateral damage. Lois Lane broke the story, the media ate it up, and now we’re forced to work with Elias Incorporated.”

“...Because you’d all be seen as dicks who don’t care about destroying cities if you didn’t?”

“Essentially.”

“Okay,” Devin hummed. “Next question, how does she _not_ know you’re Batman? _I_ figured it out in, like, two seconds.”

Bruce was silent.

“ _Do_ you know if she knows or not?”

Bruce wanted out of this conversation. He didn’t owe Devin any of this.

“I’ll take that as a no. Honestly, I’m no help in that department either. My dad could probably get it out of her, though. Do you want me to ask?”

“No. I can handle this myself.”

He snorted. “Yeah, _obviously_. Because her standing in the middle of Central City yesterday ordering you _and_ your team around is totally you _handling it_.”

Bruce crossed his arms.

“So, apparently, you’re looking for my advice, or else you would’ve already forced me to leave.”

“I don’t need advice.”

“ _Right_. Well, here’s an unsolicited opinion anyway: you should kick her out.”

Bruce was mildly surprised. He didn’t think Devin would promote that. “You _are_ aware who your sister is, correct?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. The ‘powerful and feared’ Meredith Elias. _Big whoop_. Listen, Bruciecakes, I like you, and while I also like Meredith, I don’t want to see her totally destroy your career. Which she will, if she finds out about your nighttime dress up, and if she does, I can’t exactly say I’d blame her.”

A pause

“What the hell does that mean?”

“C’mon, you can’t seriously be _that_ dense. You know what you did.”

Another pause.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.”

Devin scoffed. “Really? Tell that to my dad’s face then.”

Bruce clamped his jaw shut. He wasn’t interested in the pre-Batman era. _At all._ Devin needed to leave.

Devin finally sighed. “Oh, Bruce. Listen, there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know, but just trust me on this one. Kick her out. It’ll spare everyone a lot of trouble in the end.”

He narrowed his eyes. _A lot of stuff he didn’t know?_ There wasn’t much to the history between him and the Elias family. It was fairly straightforward. Rocky, and maybe not the easiest fallout, but straightforward. In another life, he _might’ve_ been able to see where he was somewhat in the wrong, but it was all for Meredith’s benefit, anyway. Even if she didn’t realize it.

“It’s not that simple,” Bruce finally said. “You know it’s not.”

“Yes, it _is_. Tell her she’s not allowed, announce to the media that it just didn’t work out, and I’m sure Meredith can go home to her downtown penthouse and cry over her pile of money. I’ll even send her some flowers to help cope.”

Bruce let out a sharp breath at the image in his head. He hadn’t seen Meredith cry in over twenty years— he doubted she could anymore. “I’m not jeopardizing the public reputation of the League just because a few people might get their feelings hurt.”

“ _You’ll_ get your feelings hurt.”

No, he wouldn’t. Batman didn’t have feelings, and Bruce Wayne had gotten over his. “That doesn’t matter, either.”

Devin was silent. Bruce studied his face— it’d been years since he’d had a conversation with him. He looked exactly how he used to, except with lighter hair bleached by the Miami sun and more freckles along the bridge of his nose. He was still taller than him. Bruce almost scoffed.

The brunette rolled his eyes. “Fine. Then you need to make sure she stays as uninvolved as possible. Barry already told me he likes her, and Clark was gaga all over her last night. It’s literally not even been a week, Bruce. What kind of operation are you running here?”

Bruce paused. He bristled at the insult in the back of his mind but furrowed his brows at the latter part of the sentence. Clark was not _gaga_ all over her— he was too busy being in love with Lois.

Bruce decided to address the insult. “Tell her to knock it off then.”

“ _Oh, no,_ ” Devin raised a hand, shaking his head. “No, no. Bruce, you’re about to turn _forty_ next year. I can _not_ still be mediating your fights with Meredith because of your bullshit excuse of how she won’t listen to you.”

Bruce gritted his teeth. “Devin—”

“I don’t know why you haven’t figured it out yet. You can’t _tell_ Meredith _anything_. You can’t let her have advanced notice. If I told her I was coming into town this weekend, I’d have my schedule overflowing with back-to-back events today. So don’t tell her what time anything starts, where to be at any point, any plans of what you’re doing. Give her the very basics she needs to manage the funding and that’s it.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Why are you here?”

Devin grinned. “Cause I love you, Shortstuff. Duh.”

Bruce’s skin prickled at the blatant use of those words. That wasn’t a phrase thrown around in his house unless it was spoken by Dick in a teasing manner. He knew from the look on Devin’s face that he meant it, too.

“ _And,_ Meredith sometimes needs to be knocked down a few pegs. It’s healthy for her.”

As he replayed the conversation over in his head, Bruce let the tension release from his shoulders that he didn’t know he was holding. He liked to keep the people who knew he was Batman to a minimum, but a part of him was somewhat appreciative for Devin— maybe it wouldn’t be awful to have an ally who actually understood all the nuances of the situation.

Another part of him, the more prominent voice in his brain, told him to absolutely be on guard and never talk to Devin again or allow him anywhere near Batman, regardless of their history together. He had a feeling that side of him was going to win out.

He looked back up to find the older man staring at him with a strange smile. “Well?”

“Well, what.”

“Well, let’s talk about the fact that you’re _Batman,_ dude! That’s pretty fuckin’ awesome.”

Bruce finally let himself roll his eyes. “Are we done here?”

“Do you seriously, like, jump off of buildings and throw metal things and shit?” Devin grinned at him like a ten-year-old boy as they walked out of the study and back towards the front of the manor.

“I don’t _throw metal things and shit,_ ” Bruce found his voice slightly exasperated.

Devin let out his big, loud, vibrato-filled laugh, that familiarly echoed down the hall. It was a small comfort— that noise had once been a weekly sound to bounce off of the manor walls. There was a deep feeling that settled in Bruce’s chest. Something old and something foreign. For a split second, memories of wrestling in the living room and being forced into snowball fights on the front lawn flashed across his mind.

He scowled as he opened the door, tucking that feeling away yet again. He had to finalize Tim’s west coast expansion proposal draft (that Meredith had _supposedly_ already done) and he still had his second workout of the day to complete. Devin was already putting him back a few minutes late for his five-mile run. This wasn’t important.

“Anyway,” Devin said as he took a step out the door. “I’m off to a family dinner, but next time I stop by, I expect to see this elusive cave of yours.”

Regardless of how long it had been, there was a pang of jealousy that Bruce could never seem to get rid of at the mention of the event. He could picture the dinner at the Elias household— he and his parents used to be a part of those every other Saturday night.

Bruce raised his brows, humming in feigned interest, signaling a goodbye. Burying himself in work almost sounded pleasurable right now. He began to close the door when Devin put his hand back on the wooden surface.

“Hey, you know you’re always allowed to come, right?”

Bruce just stood there blankly. His blood started to curl at the way Devin stared at him— with his stupid green eyes full of hope like they were still kids and Bruce’s parents weren’t shot dead in an alleyway and Gregory Elias didn’t hate his guts and like he actually told his own children about the family that practically took him in as their own. Like Devin understood struggle or sacrifice or losing himself in the discipline of a character with a cape. Like Bruce would _actually_ be welcomed back in with open arms.

Devin was such a fucking liar.

“I’m serious. Yeah, maybe my dad might be a little mad at first, but you know my mom would die to meet your kids.”

This was all so incredibly childish. So childish and stupid and outrageously insignificant that if he were a different person he would’ve laughed. He shouldn’t be inviting Devin into his home, telling him he’s Batman, drinking his coffee and listening to his advice. He shouldn’t be reminiscing at his laugh or getting jealous at hearing about family dinners. That’s what friends did and aside from the very sparse personal conversations he had with some of the League members, Bruce didn’t have any real friends. Only women who wanted his body and businessmen who wanted his money and criminals who wanted him dead.

“Right,” he managed to spit out. A distant part of him was aware that Devin wasn’t trying to be rude or piss him off, but his fingers still itched to slam the door in his face.

Devin tilted his head, his lips pulling into a half-smile. “Think about it anyway.” He turned around, sauntering off down the long path where a silver sports car was parked. “Love ya, kid!”

Bruce let out a snarl only to himself and gave in to the satisfaction of slamming the door with a loud bang. He had a run to go on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Along with the last chapter, I'm kinda iffy on this one too, because I feel like I'm writing Bruce a little ooc? But even still, I'm having a lot of fun writing this book, especially developing Meredith and Devin as characters. I would love to know your thoughts so far! Thank you all so much for the love and support <3
> 
> xo Alexa


	11. Chapter 11

Meredith pulled into the roundabout driveway of the Elias household, a massive brick property that filled the expanse of a couple hundred meters. She'd decided on the red Aston Martin today— it matched her sweater and the bottom of her heels.

It was chilly outside in the September Gotham air, with clouds poking from behind the spirals and peaks of the mansion roof. Devin was already ahead of her, hopping out of something silver and foreign that she couldn't identify from far away. He turned to her with a grin as she exited her car and locked the door.

"Sup!" He called, waving his hand above his head. She rolled her eyes. At least she had somewhat tried to look nice— Devin was wearing a blue sweatshirt and jeans.

She turned around and started walking up the path to the front of the property. He jogged to catch up with her, appearing at her side a few moments later.

"You'll never guess where I just was," he sounded slightly out of breath as they began to climb the stairs to the door.

"Do I _want_ to know?"

"Bruce's." He seemed proud, eyeing her with a mischievous look.

They reached the entrance, and Meredith pushed open the wooden doors. "I really don't care."

The entire house smelled warm and delicious, like freshly cooked bread and delicate desserts. She shrugged her black coat off, leaving it at a table in the foyer.

"C'mon, you seriously don't wanna know why I was there?" Devin copied her and left the sweatshirt on top of her jacket, leaving him in a navy long sleeve shirt.

"No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me, anyway."

One of their family maids, Nancy, appeared from around the corner. She saw them and her face went into shock, nearly dropping the tray of whatever she was holding. "Meredith! Devin! You two know you're supposed to ring before you walk in!"

Meredith rolled her eyes again as Nancy set down the silver platter and walked over, grabbing both of their jackets and tucking them under her arm.

"We used to live here, Nance, cut us some slack." Devin bent down and pressed a kiss to the woman's temple as he walked by, making her scowl.

Meredith trailed after her brother down the hallways and towards the kitchen, past the dining room which was bustling with waiting staff, extravagant decor, and steaming food on top of the long table. It was rare nowadays that the four of them actually got to sit down at dinner together, and apparently, their parents had decided to go all out.

"Mare, Devie!" their mother cooed as they entered the kitchen, clasping her hands over her chest. Eleanor had a kind smile, her temples lined with wrinkles but her eyes still sparkling green. She wore a purple dress that fell just below her knees with silver hair curled around her shoulders.

The cabinets of the kitchen were now painted white, an upgrade from their former brown wood. The room glowed with warmth as she approached the two of them, pressing up on her toes to give a kiss to Devin's cheek before enveloping Meredith in a tight hug.

Devin chuckled at his sister's irritated face. "Nice to see you too, Ma."

"I'm so glad you could make it." Their mother's voice was smooth like butter as she pulled back, taking Meredith's cheeks in her hands.

She rolled her eyes. "Dad didn't give me much of a choice."

Eleanor chuckled, patting Meredith's face a few times for good measure. "You know your father's just joking."

" _Yeah,_ " Meredith scoffed, pulling out of her mother's hands. "Just joking. Because that sounds _so much_ like him."

"Don't be mean, Meredith," Eleanor gestured towards the dining room, her dress swishing around her knees. "Come. We have all your favorites! Zachary made cheesy green beans."

Meredith rolled her eyes. That hadn't been her favorite dish since she was nineteen. In part, because she had experienced food from all over the globe after age twenty, but also because— while their head chef Zachary was a phenomenal cook— Alfred Pennyworth had always made the green beans just a little bit better.

And there was no amount of incredible vegetables that would get her back into that house, so she just developed a love for noodles to compensate as her new favorite.

As they entered the dining room, a young man, one she hadn't seen before, was pulling out the chair for her. He was apparently the newest addition to their staff— she'd have to catch his name later. She nodded in thanks, taking a seat in the middle of the table, Devin across from her and her mother on one end.

Just as she was about to question where he was, Gregory Elias himself strode in the door, wearing a white button-up, gray slacks, and a matching sweater vest. She always held in a sigh at her father's face— while it looked better than it had years ago, he still seemed gaunt, his blue eyes now a muted pale color. His forehead was littered with stress lines and around his mouth were angry crinkles. However, it was comforting that his frame was tall and lean, much like Devin's, and he still held firm shoulders in his unwavering posture.

"Hiya, Pops," Devin greeted, face already deep into his plate. She could hardly believe her brother was in his forties when he still couldn't remember the basic rule of not eating until everyone was seated at the table.

"Meredith," his voice was sharp and cold as he ignored his son, turning to her. The young busboy was back again, this time seeming more frightened as he pulled out the chair for her father. "At the Kord Industries meeting—"

She had already come prepared with everything he was going to ask. "I addressed the low joint profit margins in Argentina— someone was skimming revenue in their energy division. The board already had it handled when I got there."

"And did you—"

"Inform them of Patrick Jonas' repeated miscommunication with our HR department? Yes, _and_ he's being replaced starting Monday. It's all taken care of."

Her father nodded curtly, seeming slightly more relaxed as he began to eat.

She smiled, finally digging into her food. While she had already proved herself time and time again that she was more than capable of managing the Elias empire on her own, it was always nice to see her father— the man who was so hard so please— proud of her.

"Devin," her mother began. "How's Florida treating you?"

Her brother shrugged, saying something about surfing competitions and Miami nightclubs. Meredith stabbed a green bean with her fork and chewed on the end, not being able to help a brief moment of disappointment. They really just weren't as good as Alfreds. Eventually, the conversation ended, and Meredith could feel her mother itching to ask something that she didn't want to speak of.

"Why don't we talk about the story of the week? Mare, tell me about the Justice League."

She stabbed another green bean, trying to keep her answer as minimal as possible. She knew her father had never been a big fan of superheroes, and he probably wasn't thrilled at the idea of her publicly partnering his company with them. "I've had to do a little bit of remodeling to their business structure, particularly funding, but besides that everything is fine."

Eleanor gave a smile like she was trying to be understanding. "That's wonderful. And the members themselves? How are they?"

Meredith paused, acutely aware of Gregory's blank stare to her right. She decided to indulge her mother a little— Elias Incorporated was Meredith's company now, and she stood by the decisions she made on its behalf. If her father couldn't see the benefit in being partnered with the League, that was his own problem.

"Surprisingly horrible at keeping secret identities, believe it or not."

Devin snorted from across the table, almost choking on his food. "You're tellin' me."

Eleanor turned to him with suspicion. "Are you somehow involved in this, too?"

"I'm sorta friends with Flash," Devin reached across the table, grabbing a dish of mashed potatoes and scooping some onto his plate.

Meredith gave him a dangerous look. Even if she was thirty-nine, much too old to be told what to do anymore, she didn't need her parents knowing that supercriminals had a hit out on her— her father would probably lose his mind.

Devin seemed to understand, pausing mid-bite and rolling his eyes.

"You are?" Her mother sounded intrigued. "He's the one in red who can run fast, correct?"

Devin nodded.

"Who else do you know?"

 _Oh, he better not_ —

"Well, actually I just met Superman yesterday." He chuckled. "Me and Mare almost died."

"You two _what?"_

She caught herself from flinching at Gregory's tone, his head snapping up and staring at both of them with cold eyes. She scowled at Devin, before turning to her father. "We hardly _almost died_. There was just a... little altercation, but I handled it. It was no big deal."

"Meredith, this public Justice League partnership is an injudicious move," Gregory fell into his businessman tone, and she internally groaned. This lecture had been what she was trying to avoid. "It's completely unreliable. The League has nothing to offer Elias Incorporated other than their reputation, which you do _not_ need to be associated with."

She furrowed her brows. "It's good to have a hand in all major corporations, and the Justice League isn't excluded from that. They're a world-renowned organization of heroes. Superman _alone_ could be the bridge between tons of international disputes—"

"The Justice League operated perfectly fine before you, and they will continue to operate without you."

Irritation began to gather beneath her skin. While she respected her father's opinion, she didn't need him to tell her how to do her job.

"They're operating more _efficiently_ because I'm now in charge of their finances—"

"You have no place there, Meredith. Being publicly related with them is _incredibly_ dangerous. You can't move mountains or outrun cars. And if you're forming personal relationships with them like I believe you and Devin are, people are _going_ to come after you."

She held her firm look but cringed on the inside. If only her father knew how correct he was, as usual.

"I can't speak for Devin, but _I'm_ strictly there for business. I have no personal relationship with any of them."

" _Well_..."

She knew anger was flickering across her face as she spun around to Devin, who looked guilty.

"C'mon, Mare," he reasoned. "He makes a good point! If you didn't have an SRE on you yesterday we'd be in a completely different situation right now and you know it. Maybe it _is_ a little dangerous."

She scoffed. "Well as you can see, I'm perfectly fine. There's a risk in every business deal, and I'm more than willing to take the risk. Sorry if you aren't."

"Willing to take the risk for _what?_ There's nothing to get out of this other than street cred! They don't need your money, you should've just left it to Bruce and Oliver and—"

Her eyes widened. _Oh damn._

"So _this_ is about Bruce and Oliver, then?" Gregory sounded blatantly enraged, his steak knife clattering ungracefully on his plate. "Meredith, I thought you stopped following those two morons into their ridiculous shenanigans _twenty years ago_."

She rolled her neck, exasperated. This is exactly why she didn't want to come to dinner tonight. "Oliver told me he was funding the Justice League, and I just _happened_ to figure out Wayne was as well. Besides that, I got in completely on my own. I send their offices paperwork for League finances and nothing else."

"Not including the fact that she's also buddy-buddy with Superman, and now Flash. Both of whom happen to enjoy her company."

"Devin!" she turned to him with a glare. " _Shut up_. I only found out who Flash was _yesterday_ , and I'm _hardly_ best friends with Superman."

"And now you know their identities, too?"

Devin ignored their father's anger. " _Right,_ that's why Clark was laughing it up with you at the bar."

"Just because we're having a conversation doesn't make us friends!"

"Sure didn't look that way."

"Oh, you piece of—"

"Devin and Meredith Elias!" The rare strict tone of the mother silenced the petty argument. "You are both _grown adults,_ so act like it. Now, can someone please tell me what business Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen have with the Justice League?"

"I was actually just at Bruce's before this."

Meredith stared at Devin in slight surprise. "You were?"

"Yeah, that's what I was _trying_ to tell you when we walked in, but you blew me off, jackass." He glared. "Barry said that Bruce was involved with the League, so I stopped by to see what his deal was. I got the impression that he knows Batman."

"How is Bruce?" Eleanor asked nonchalantly. She had her head turned down, picking up some of her food with a fork. Meredith rolled her eyes. No matter how badly Bruce fucked up, her mother still seemed to have some sort of compassion for the asshole.

Devin's lip quirked into a smile. "Mentally stable- _ish_. I officially met his kids for the first time at the CCPD fundraiser yesterday. His new son looks _exactly_ like him, it's almost scary."

"Really?" Eleanor didn't have a smile on her face, but her eyes twinkled cheerfully.

Meredith shared a glance with her father, who seemed equally as irritated about the entire conversation.

"Yeah," Devin now returned to his food. "I saw his oldest son an hour ago, he's a flirt just like his dad. I don't know a ton about the other two, but Meredith is apparently fairly acquainted with the third one, Tim."

All eyes turned to her. She shrugged casually, but knew her father also wasn't going to like this part. "Tim's interested in Wayne Enterprises. He's a smart kid— occasionally I look over some stuff for him. Unsurprisingly, he's easier to work with than his father, and almost better at his job, too."

"I actually invited Bruce here tonight, but I don't think he felt too welcomed," Devin added.

Meredith spoke in unison with her father. "He's not."

"It's probably... not the best idea, Dev." Eleanor poorly concealed her sadness. Why she couldn't get past her depression when it came to Bruce was beyond Meredith.

Devin looked sympathetic and Meredith wanted to slap him across the face.

"You guys are going to the Gotham Museum unveiling of the Incan gallery next week, right? I think Bruce and his kids will be there, too."

" _Point is,"_ Meredith interrupted her mother's hopeful eyes. "I can handle the League situation, and as the _current_ CEO of Elias Incorporated," she gave Gregory a hard stare. "I believe I'm doing what's best for the company."

Her father raised a passive hand and sat back in his seat. "You're the boss, then."

She scowled at his condescending tone, like he knew this was all going to backfire on her. _It absolutely was not_. She had been running this place for over twenty years now, and she was aware of how business worked. She was just as smart as her father, if not smarter, in her educated opinion.

She placed another vegetable in her mouth. Devin had only been in town for two days, and everything she'd tried to keep a secret was all spilling out. He was such an idiot.

The sound utensils clinking on plates filled the room.

"What's Superman like?" Eleanor spoke. "I've seen him on the news before, he's rather handsome. Clark, you said his name was?"

Meredith realized Devin had inadvertently told their parents about Clark and Barry. She sighed. "He's... fine. He grew up on a farm in Kansas and now works for the Daily Planet. I'm friendly with his coworker and schoolboy crush, Lois Lane."

" _He_ likes Lois Lane?" Devin stared at her incredulously.

"Yes, why?"

"Well, _she's_ so... Lois Lane, and _he's_ so... farm boy."

"She _is_ a little out of his League," Meredith chuckled. "Clark's, at least. I think Superman could rival her personality."

Devin laughed. "She'd totally beat him in a staring contest."

"Yeah, right." She fell into laughter alongside him, purposely ignoring the look her father was giving her. She knew Devin and her were completely proving his point about them developing personal connections with the League members, but she didn't really care. It was nice to laugh with her brother for a brief moment.

Devin finished his chuckles, spreading his arms. "So, who wants to hear about my surfing competition on Tuesday?"

* * *

The elevator doors opened and Meredith stepped out, into the lobby of her office floor. She smiled at Janette, who was packing up her bags for the night.

"Are you heading out?" Meredith asked, pulling her black coat off.

Janette nodded, slinging a purse over her shoulder and brushing her red hair back. "Also, I think we need to get the air conditioning units checked again. There have been weird noises coming from down the hall, and I went to look, but nothing was there."

Meredith froze, slowly tucking her jacket under her arm. She put a smile on her face again. "Got it. I'll let the maintenance guys know. Have a good night, Jan."

The redhead said her goodbyes, disappearing into the elevator. Meredith sighed, walking past the conference room and to the door of her office. She turned the knob and entered the room, which was pitch black except for the city lights coming from the windows behind her desk. She set her coat down on the table near the door.

She strode across the carpet and switched on the small lamp. "There's a thing called knocking, you know."

She turned around, and standing a few feet away from her was the Dark Knight.

"You're lucky my secretary didn't catch you." She leaned back on her desk. "You would've given her a heart attack."

He stared at her in a way that told her that _the_ Batman was not about to be caught by an office secretary.

"You can't work with the League anymore."

There was a pause. She bit back a chuckle.

"You're cute, you know? In a weird, 'I dress up as a small mammal and prowl around the city' kind of way."

That seemed to irritate him. "It's going to get dangerous. _Fast_."

She rolled her eyes. "Is this about the Deadshot incident yesterday? I'm one of the richest people in the world, there's always someone out to get me."

"Deadshot is _not_ just your regular criminal," his modulated voice nearly growled.

"Didn't seem like much of a threat."

"He's one of the world's best marksmen. You caught him off guard once— you won't get lucky again."

"Well, it's a good thing I now own men who can outrun bullets."

"Flash and Superman can't always stop everything."

"Isn't that why you're here? To be the knight in shining armor for us helpless people of Gotham?"

"I can't stop everything, either."

"Then what exactly _is_ your job, then? To break through what I _thought_ was my unbreakable security and lecture me at odd hours of the night?"

There was no response. She stared at him, his cowl completely covering his face and the expanse of his shoulders almost frightening. He had his arms crossed, now visible from beneath his cape, unlike the last time he had visited her. She tried not to stare at the way the dark gray spandex outlined his muscles— she had been right, he was absolutely built.

"As I said before, if you want to publicly announce that we aren't working together anymore, then be my guest." She turned to her Keurig as she did during their previous encounter. She always needed coffee when this man was around. "But I don't think you actually want to, or else you would've done it already. And _I'm_ not leaving, so I guess we're at an impasse."

Meredith felt him move closer to her as she pulled the steaming cup of coffee from beneath the machine. She turned around, finding him towering over her. Seriously, what was this guy's deal with trying to be so intimidating?

"You're going to end up hurt. Or worse."

She tilted her head, noticing his cape had flipped up on one side. She reached out, grasping the black fabric which felt somewhat rubbery beneath her fingers, and flattened it against his chest. It was strange being so up close and personal with the man who Gotham thought was a myth for years, and who she only ever saw beating criminals to a pulp. She turned her lip up in a smirk. She always strayed far away from anything that could potentially damage her reputation, but even _she_ had to admit that this felt a little scandalous, and it was a _little_ exciting.

She kept her hand resting in that position, for no reason other than the fact that she wanted to see how long he would let her keep it there. She'd use that as a basis to judge how much he'd allow her to get away with.

"I would offer you a drink, but..." She gestured to the cowl which usually didn't cover his mouth. "You never answered me last time, what's with the new mask?"

Meredith paused. This was ridiculous. She purposely went out of her way to never engage in small talk— unless she was going to get something out of a conversation, she didn't need to be in it.

"My face gets cold."

She found herself actually chuckling at the reference to their last conversation. She walked to her desk, trailing her hand around his arm before falling to her side. She was somewhat surprised— he had made no effort to stop her from invading his personal space. _Interesting_.

"The meeting is still Wednesday at eight?" She sat down at her desk and opened up her laptop.

There was a long, drawn-out silence, and for a moment she thought he'd left.

"Don't be late."

She sipped her coffee.

"Have a good night, Batman."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hopefully, this chapter wasn't too boring haha. Thank you for so many comments and kudos already! I'm glad you're all enjoying this :) More to come soon!
> 
> xo Alexa


	12. Chapter 12

**_32 YEARS EARLIER_ **

Meredith awoke to the sound of commotion in her house. She opened her eyes with a soft groan, sloppily rubbing her face with the side of her palms. Her door was cracked halfway open, allowing a sliver of light into her otherwise dark room. No one in her house was ever up in the middle of the night. Was it morning already?

Pushing back the pale pink comforter, she turned over to her gold clock which was illuminated by the light from the hall. Her dad had just started teaching her how to read a roman numerals clock, and while she wasn’t a hundred percent sure what time it was, she knew the big arrow was always on the other side of the clock when she woke up.

Meredith noticed a figure rushing by her door. She squinted her eyes and her head felt hazy.

She pushed her feet out of the four-poster bed and shivered when her feet touched the cold hardwood. She slipped on a pair of socks before trailing out the door, hugging her arms around her body for warmth.

There was the sound of people drifting from the stairway. She started walking down the hall. It felt weird to be out at whatever time it was, and not to her usual pancakes and morning cartoons.

Meredith crept down the stairs, holding onto the railing as the sound of voices made their way to her ears. It sounded like someone was crying. She tilted her head, moving a little faster. The air conditioning in the mansion was blasting and almost everywhere was dark. The only other time she’d ever been up so late was on Christmas when Devin had convinced her to come down in the morning and “catch Santa Claus.”

The crying and soft whispers sounded like it was coming from the living room closest to the front doors. She made her way to the entrance of the room and noticed two figures that weren’t a part of her family.

“Alfred!” she greeted cheerfully, running up to the butler and hugging his leg.

Everyone in the room looked stunned to see her. Instead of Alfred’s usual quiet chuckle, he was silent. Meredith pulled back in confusion. He always ruffled her hair or patted her head when he saw her. She studied his face which had a look on it that she’d never seen before.

She turned to her left to see Bruce sitting in her father’s lap, his head buried in the older man’s shoulder.

“Bruce!” Meredith giggled. Her parents always told her whenever Bruce was coming over, so why was he here at this time of night?

She ran over, putting her hands out for her usual hug from the small boy, but he didn’t turn to face her. His body heaved slowly. The smile fell from her face.

“Brooch?”

She finally turned up to see her father biting his lip. She looked around at everyone else in the room— her mother sat on one of the couches with a tear-stained face, an arm around Devin, who stared at her with sullen eyes.

“Wha— what’s wrong?” she asked, coming to the realization that this wasn’t a normal visit from Bruce and Alfred. The silence in the room was deafening. “Mommy? Are you okay?”

Her mother gazed at her with a horrified look before bursting into tears once again. She doubled over, sobs wracking her body, Devin leaning into her for comfort. Alfred averted his gaze and faced towards the opposite wall.

Meredith turned to her father with worry. “Is mommy hurt? Why is she crying?”

Gregory let out a long sigh, straightening his shoulders from his previous slump. “Meredith, something... _bad_ happened.”

Her eyes widened as Bruce finally took his head out of Gregory’s shoulder and faced her. There was a little blood down the side of his lip, with splotchy red eyes and pale skin. His usual styled hair was matted to his forehead. She noticed he wore a suit jacket that was way too big for him— it looked like his father’s.

“Bruce?” she asked softly, clasping her hands to her chest as if she was approaching a dangerous animal. She looked to Gregory. “What happened?”

No one seemed to want to give her an answer, which filled her throat with dread. The tension in the room was starting to get increasingly scarier. Someone needed to turn the air conditioning off.

“Mare,” her father’s voice was now a low whisper, and fear sunk into her stomach. He never addressed her by her nickname. “It’s Thomas and Martha… they…”

A silence fell across the mansion again.

“They’re gone.”

“Oh.” She cocked her head, somewhat feeling relieved. That didn’t sound so bad. “Gone where?”

There was that long pause again, and she suddenly found Alfred’s hand on her shoulder. The man bent down to her level and looked at her sympathetically. “They are not coming back, Meredith.”

She scrunched her eyebrows. “W-what do you mean? Whenever Uncle Tommy and Aunt Martha go away, they always come back. Why is mommy so sad?”

“They _died_ , Mare.” Devin’s words cut across the room, leaving a horrible, sinking terror in their wake. She blinked, looking over to her brother. Angry tears streamed down his face. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she glanced at each person in the room. Dying wasn’t good. Dying was very, _very_ bad from what her parents had told her. She should always be careful because if she wasn’t she might die, her mother told her. Were Thomas and Martha not careful?

Devin’s words replayed in her head. _They died_.

“W-why?”

“There are—” Alfred’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “There are some very bad people out there, Miss Meredith. Someone hurt them.”

“And they, a-and they couldn’t be fixed?” She found tears prickling in her eyes, holding her hands tightly. The room was too cold and her body was shivering. “Mommy is a nurse, can’t she fix them?”

Alfred drew her into his chest. His face looked heavy and sad and a lot of other things Meredith didn’t understand. “Some things can not be fixed, Dear.”

“I- I don’t g-get it,” her voice felt constricted. She pushed away from the butler. “They aren’t coming back?”

Alfred shook his head, swallowing a lump in his throat. A few tears escaped his light grey eyes— she’d never seen Alfred cry before. “I’m afraid not.”

“Ever?” She pulled at her fingers, chewing on her lip. Her breath was starting to become uneven. Uncle Tommy would never swing her around again? Aunt Martha had the matching necklace to Meredith’s favorite bracelet, how would they be matching if she wasn’t there?

The front doorbell rang— a booming, cold sound against the silence of the living room. It distracted her from the onslaught of tears that were about to spill from her eyes. Alfred wiped his own tears with his suit jacket, standing back up to his full height. He turned to her parents.

“That would be James Gordon. I believe he wishes to talk to the two of you.” He gave his attention specifically to her mother. “Eleanor—”

Her mother let out a ragged sigh, sitting up straighter and batting her hands at her eyes. Hiccups spilled from her mouth as she stood up and nodded profusely. “I know, I— okay. Okay.” She sobbed again before standing up. “I’ll talk to him.”

Eleanor was still in a silk robe as she hurriedly walked down the hall to the foyer, gentle cries trailing after her.

“C-can I come?” Devin’s voice was harsh through his tears.

Her father, who had gently placed Bruce on the couch, sighed at his son. After a moment, he nodded, putting his arm around the young boy and following their mother. Alfred was the only adult left. He glanced back down the hallway, before turning to Meredith.

“Miss Meredith, I must excuse myself for a moment while I talk to Mr. Gordon. Would you stay with Bruce?”

She nodded slowly, noticing the cold air hitting her wet cheeks as the elder man trudged sadly after her parents and brother. She stood there for a long time, unsure of what to do. She eventually looked at Bruce, who was huddled in the corner of the couch with his knees to his chest.

“Brooch?” she whispered cautiously. Meredith joined him on the couch, folding her legs beneath her. What would her parents do in this situation?

“Are— are you alright?” She didn’t know what else to ask. It was obvious that things were very _not_ alright.

“There was… a man.” Bruce’s voice was the barest of whispers, spoken hoarsely and from between his knees. The quiet sound of the air conditioning humming in the background, and voices coming from the front of the foyer. “H-he had a…”

The stillness of the room was crushing.

“He had what?” she murmured back.

Bruce’s blue eyes popped up to meet hers, heartbroken and devastated. They were tinged red and liquid was rushing from his nose, which he wiped away with the long sleeve of the jacket. Blood was dried near his mouth. Meredith was scared. Terrified. Her best friend had never looked at her like that before. He looked like a ghost.

“W-what did he have?”

Bruce was suddenly launching himself at her, the jacket falling back behind him. His fingers gripped onto her arms and into her back and he was violently sobbing, his small frame shaking and making noises that Meredith had never heard come from another person. She was stunned, staring at the wall behind him that had a shelf containing family photos, many featuring Bruce and his parents.

His nails dug into the thin fabric of her purple nightshirt, and she found herself crying, out of fear and out of sadness. She didn’t understand what was happening, or why it was all happening at such an early hour. She didn’t understand why Thomas and Martha weren’t coming back or why a man named James Gordon was at the door or why Bruce was bleeding and crushing her in a hug that was so foreign to him.

Her arms wrapped around him as he heaved, messy and hopeless into her neck and ear.

“He had a... gun,” his voice was cracked.

Meredith knew what a gun was— policemen used them to stop criminals and her father also owned a few, locked up in a safe that she wasn’t allowed anywhere near. Why would a policeman hurt Thomas and Martha?”

“My dad he—” Bruce choked from between sobs, gasping for air like he was drowning. “He just—”

He was falling into her again, his entire body leaning against her shoulder.

“It was m-my fault,” he cried, sounding absolutely shattered and desperate and confused. “I wanted t-to leave ear— early, I didn’t mean to—”

His voice was now a dull whimper. She slightly pulled back and stared at him through blurry eyes. He looked like he was having a panic attack, with big, gulping breaths and a creased brow full of sorrow.

She wasn’t sure what to say. She’d seen Bruce cry before, over hurting his knee and getting in trouble and breaking a vase, but it wasn’t anything like this.

She pressed a short kiss to his lips like he’d done to her a year ago in the garden. Her mother kissed her father when he was stressed or upset, so maybe it would help Bruce. He cracked open his eyes, mouth twisted with sorrow, tears spilling down his face but his sobs now turning into hiccups.

“I’m sorry, Brooch,” she whispered lowly. “It will be okay.”

He stared at her, sitting back on his heels like she was. He let out a wet huff, dropping his head and slumping his shoulders. “No, it won’t, Marrie.”

The adults finally started to walk back into the room, all deathly quiet. Meredith had never seen her father look so distressed. Devin wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred was soft. “I believe it is time for us to go.”

“Oh. O-okay.”

Bruce was slow to push himself off of the couch, and Meredith gripped his hand tightly. She wiped the tears from her face. “I— I don’t want Bruce to leave. Can he… can he stay?”

Eleanor leaned away from her spot at Gregory’s side and turned to Alfred, gripping the butler’s arm. She looked at him pleadingly. “Let him stay. Please. Feel free to stay as well, Alfred. As long as you’d like.”

Alfred sighed and took her hands in his. “Very well. I will… I will come back to pick him up in the morning. And Eleanor, please…”

Alfred’s voice dipped below what Meredith could hear. Her mother sobbed again, wrapping her arms around the elder man. Her father exchanged a look with Alfred above Eleanor’s head. Alfred eventually said his goodbyes as he left, leaving Bruce to finally slump back into the couch.

Her parents approached them, her mother doing nothing but holding back tears as she took Bruce’s cheeks in her hands and kissed his head. She hurriedly left down the hall and Meredith heard her wails once again.

Gregory was bending down in front of them, staring at Bruce, who started to cry.

“U-Uncle Gregory, it was… it was my fault—”

“ _Bruce Thomas_.” Her father’s voice was so sharp and angry that Meredith pulled in a breath, and Bruce snapped out of his tears. “Don’t you _dare_ ever say that, do you understand me?”

Bruce nodded with wide eyes, and her father sighed, pulling the boy into a hug. “It will be alright. I promise it will.”

“How do you know?” Bruce’s reply was muffled against Gregory’s shirt.

“Have I _ever_ lied to you, Bruce?”

Bruce pulled back and shook his head.

To Meredith’s surprise, her father placed a kiss on his temple, before standing up and walking into another room. He reappeared with blankets and pillows, and Bruce suddenly looked exhausted. As Gregory created them makeshift beds on the long, dark green couch, he rubbed Bruce’s shoulder.

“Let’s worry about all of this tomorrow, alright? You two need to go to bed.”

Meredith was stunned at her father’s composure, like nothing was wrong and nothing had just happened. He looked absolutely normal, save for the heavy bags under his eyes, as he tucked both of them into opposite sides of the couch and covered them in soft blankets.

A kiss was pressed on her forehead, and then her father moved to the other end of the couch.

“You’re alright now, Bruce,” he spoke.

“T-thank you.” Came a hushed whisper.

“Both of you, get some sleep.”

The lights switched off, footsteps sounded down the hall, and everything fell into silence. Meredith stared into the dark. It felt like a nightmare— like she was going to wake up tomorrow and she and Bruce would giggle over syrup while Devin made structures with his food. She was somewhat convinced that everything that had just occurred in the last thirty minutes didn’t actually happen. It was too sudden for Thomas and Martha to be gone when she had just seen them last weekend.

“Marrie?”

She was startled at the voice— she’d thought that Bruce had already fallen asleep.

“Yes, Bruce?”

“I’m scared.”

Her fingers gripped at the blanket on top of her and pulled it higher to her chest.

“Of what?”

His voice was strained. “Of sleeping.”

Meredith was scared, too. Scared to have to wake up and realize that this was all a reality and not some random, midnight fever dream. She moved the blanket, pushing herself up from her spot and crawling over next to Bruce. He seemed to understand, moving his body to allow both of them to fit on the couch. She brought her blankets back over her.

Bruce was still in whatever clothes he had worn a few hours before, and Thomas’ jacket sat beneath them. It smelled like him. She sighed, her shoulder squeezing against Bruce’s.

“My dad said it will be okay,” she said. “My dad isn’t a liar.”

A pause.

“I know. I like him.”

“Me too.”

There was no response, and the last thing Meredith heard was Bruce’s soft snoring before she fell into a dreamless sleep herself.

* * *

A few weeks had gone by and the brutal reality of what had happened was only just starting to sink in. His days were no longer filled with school and Meredith and Devin and family dinners and stupid jokes. That all seemed pointless now, like a distant memory in the back of his mind. He stared at a wall or slept in his parent's bed or avoided Alfred because talking seemed obsolete at this point, too. He cried in his room or sat in his father’s chair in the study or stared out the window where snow started to fall. He avoided calls from the Elias household because it was too much to see Gregory and Eleanor without seeing his parents at the same time.

Meredith was probably worried. Their entire life, they’d never gone this long without seeing each other. Bruce didn’t care.

It was just one big, lingering sadness that hung over the manor and was inescapable no matter what he did. There was a massive pile of flowers and presents at the front doors as the news broke all over the country, but it still didn’t replace his mother’s warm smile or his father’s bellowing laugh.

And then there were the nightmares. Staying awake until he couldn’t function any longer because the terror of closing his eyes and knowing what awaited him once he slept was dreadful. To relive that awful alleyway, his father’s concerned hand on his shoulder, his mother falling to the ground. Pearls splattered across the ground with a loud, deafening bang. He screamed. His throat bled raw. He jolted out of bed with tears in his eyes and sweat covering his body and found Alfred there every single time without fail, offering support and comfort.

No one could do anything for Bruce, not even himself. Alfred tried to talk to him, but even when Bruce cared to listen, the older man couldn’t seem to find any words. He left food by Bruce’s door which he occasionally picked at, only for reasons of needing to survive.

Survive. That’s a good word for what Bruce was doing right now.

Sitting at the kitchen table seemed insurmountable, and Bruce wasn’t sure he could ever get himself to sit there again. Leaving the house sounded terrifying— facing Meredith sounded even worse. After that one night, he didn’t want to see her again.

He’d finally gained the courage to just walk downstairs to lay on the couches of the study again. As he reached the last step, the doorbell rang. Bruce paused. Alfred made sure the gates were always locked to keep desperate reporters and concerned citizens out while the Wayne’s deaths unfolded in the media, so no one should’ve been able to make it to the door. He peered out one of the windows to see a silver car driving away down the road.

He probably should’ve let Alfred handle it, but Alfred was currently up in his room, and Bruce really didn’t want to disturb him because he didn’t want to accidentally strike up a conversation. It was most likely just another package.

He found his feet trudging to the front for the first time since he’d come home that night. He pushed the hair that was starting to grow too long out of his eyes as he tugged open one of the doors. Standing outside with the biggest grin that he’d seen in weeks was Oliver Queen, who had wild blond hair and a tray with some lump covered in what looked like frosting.

“Hiya, Bruce!” Oliver beamed, like everything in his life was perfectly alright and nothing bad had ever happened.

Bruce, on the other hand, had barely spoken in over a month. “Um, hello.”

“I made you a cake!” The metal tray was shoved unceremoniously into Bruce’s arms. It didn’t look like much of a cake— more like something that would give Bruce a disease.

“Oh. Thank you.” Bruce’s eyes fell to his feet. Staring at Oliver hurt— it reminded him of his most recent birthday— an event his parents were never going to get to attend again. It was a painful realization. He swallowed hard.

Oliver seemed to lose his usual exuberance, now staring at him with worry. “I’m, um, really sorry about your parents.”

Besides the cops after the accident, no one outside of Alfred or the Elias family had said that to Bruce yet. It was probably the first of many. He blinked back hot tears that were forcing their way to the surface. His voice was a whisper. “Thanks.”

Oliver stepped into the house, ripped the cake out of Bruce’s hands, clattered it on a nearby table, and crushed Bruce in a hug. Bruce froze at the sudden affection as the blond tucked his head into his shoulder. It was more emotion than Bruce wanted at that moment. He bit his lip to stop the tears from falling, but it didn’t work. He hugged Oliver back tentatively. Life was just so, so unfair and cruel and dirty and why did Oliver get parents and happiness and strong emotions and not him and—

Oliver pulled away and noticed the tears. “Oh no. I didn’t mean to make you cry, did I make you cry? It’s okay! Um, maybe… maybe we can watch a movie?”

“I don’t really want to.” Bruce burned with embarrassment at his tears in front of the other boy. He just wanted Oliver to leave— he needed to be alone.

“Do you want to talk?”

Bruce most definitely didn’t want to talk. He rubbed the wetness from his cheeks for what was probably the third time that day, and his face felt raw. “No.”

“Do you want another hug?

“No.”

“Do you want to sit outside and count the leaves on the trees?”

“There are no leaves on the trees. It’s snowing.”

“I know. That was the joke.”

“It wasn’t very funny.”

“It was a little funny.”

Oliver made a quirky face, turning his lips up, and for the first time in weeks, Bruce cracked the tiniest smile. Oliver was just so ridiculous.

“How about we cut our hair?”

Bruce furrowed his brow. “What?”

“You look like a girl.”

“I do not.”

“Yes you do.”

“Well, so do you.”

“That’s why we should cut our hair. I can cut yours and you can cut mine.”

Bruce didn’t really care for looking presentable anymore, but having the hair out of his eyes _would_ be kind of nice. Just a little bit. His mother had always liked Bruce with short hair. He missed his mother trimming his hair while he sat on her bathroom counter. “I’ll cut both of ours.”

“Why?”

A cold breeze rushed in from the open door and Bruce pushed it shut. Oliver’s parents had driven away, so apparently, the blond had planned on staying a while. “I don’t want you with scissors in my hair.”

“Why not?” Oliver complained and Bruce led him to the kitchen.

“You’re messy.”

“I’m not messy!”

The manor seemed cold and empty as Bruce walked into the kitchen for the first time in a while. He flipped the lights on, and Oliver hoisted himself into one of the barstools. A part of Bruce wanted to curl up on the couch, but Oliver’s loud voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Have you seen Meredith?”

Bruce sighed as he found the drawer with a pair of scissors. “No.”

“Why not? We should invite Devin.”

“I don’t want to see Devin.”

“I thought you liked Devin? Maybe he’s good at cutting hair.”

Tears were burning beneath his brow again. Stupid Devin who had stupid eyes like Eleanor which made Bruce think of his own mother who was now dead. So stupid stupid stupid. He didn’t want to look at him. Devin’s words in the Elias living room played in his head like a record: _they died, Mare._

His parents. Dead. They died. He hated Devin for saying that, even if it was the truth.

“I don’t want him here.”

“Oh, okay.”

There was a silence as Bruce made his way to the barstool next to Oliver. He set the scissors on the counter before boosting himself up.

“My…” Bruce’s voice wobbled, but he managed to push through. “My mom always wet my hair before cutting it.”

Oliver nodded sharply, jumping off of his chair and walking to the sink, where he hauled his small body over the lip of the counter and turned on the tap. Bruce’s eyes widened.

“No, that’s not what I—”

Water was rushing over Oliver’s head, turning his blonde hair a dusty brown and spilling down his neck, his arms, and puddling on the floor. Seeming satisfied, Oliver turned the water off, planting his feet back on the ground and shaking his head rapidly in a similar fashion to a wet dog. Small pellets of water flew everywhere, and Bruce wrinkled his nose as he shielded his face from the barrage.

“My hair’s wet,” Oliver announced, joining Bruce back at the counter.

Bruce stared at him unbelievingly as the shoulders of Oliver’s gray jacket were now dark, and water dripped off of his lashes. He blinked, causing the liquid to pool at the top of the cheeks.

Bruce wasn’t sure exactly what to say. “Okay.”

He picked up the scissors, staring at the soaking blond locks. His mother had never really provided him with a method of how to do this, but it didn’t seem that hard.

“I want something… edgy,” Oliver requested, flicking his hair which caused water to spray across the bridge of Bruce’s nose.

“Edgy?”

“Yeah. Fashion.”

“What’s fashion?”

“You know, like those models in magazines!”

“You want to look like a woman?”

“No! The _man_ models.”

“You’re eight.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a man.”

“I’m getting ready for the future!”

Bruce hummed in response, taking Oliver’s hair in between his two fingers like he’d seen his mother do and pulling them against his forehead. He ran the scissors below his fingers, making the wet locks fall into Oliver’s lap. He continued around the blond’s head, snipping small chunks which blew onto the floor.

“Bruce?”

He hummed again.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Huh.”

“What… what happened with your parents?”

Bruce paused the scissors in mid-cut. He hadn’t discussed that with anyone yet. “I don’t…” he trailed off. Oliver stared at him with concerned eyes. Bruce sighed. “A man had a gun.”

Silence.

“Why didn’t you get hurt?”

It was a good question. One that Bruce thought about every night— why _didn’t_ he get hurt? Why was it his parents? Why did the man leave him? Why did _they_ leave him?

“I don’t know. He got scared, maybe. Then he ran away. He… he took my dad’s wallet. I think the police found it.”

Oliver was silent again. “You know, my parents said that you can come stay with us whenever you want.”

“Thanks.”

They didn’t speak as the sound of scissors slicing filled the room. After another few minutes, Bruce seemed satisfied with his work, sitting back and setting the scissors on the counter. Oliver hopped off of his seat again, walking into the hallway where a mirror was placed on the wall. Bruce watched him pose through the doorway to the kitchen.

“Hey! I think I look sexy,” Oliver laughed, contorting his body at strange angles to catch a glimpse of his hair.

Bruce scrunched his face up. Alfred would’ve killed him for using the word sexy.

Oliver turned around and bounded back towards the counter. “Okay! Can I cut yours?”

Before Bruce could protest and say absolutely not, a British voice interrupted him. “And just _what_ is happening here?”

They turned to find Alfred standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, inspecting the clumps of hair on the counter.

“Bruce is cutting my hair!” Oliver announced.

“I can see that,” Alfred seemed slightly amused. “I was not aware you were stopping by today, Mr. Queen.”

“I wanted to give Bruce a cake. I made it myself!”

Bruce shrunk down in his seat. Alfred probably wasn’t going to be happy about the mess that they were making in the otherwise spotless room. His mother would’ve been mad.

The butler’s eyes flitted over to him, and his lips turned up. “Well then, I will leave you to it. Mr. Queen, try not to butcher Master Bruce’s hair.”

Oliver fist-pumped the air and Bruce scowled. “He’s not cutting my hair.”

“C’mon, Bruce! I promise I’ll do good!” Oliver picked up the scissors and snipped them repeatedly

“No.”

“Come _onnn_.”

Oliver inched closer to him and Bruce backed up.

“No. Oliver, get away.”

“I’ll do good!”

“Don’t come close t— Oliver!” Bruce shouted, turning around and sprinting down the hall. He pushed past Alfred, who produced a quiet chuckle that Bruce hadn’t heard in a long time. Oliver’s maniacal laughter followed him with reckless abandon, scissors in his hand, which Bruce’s mother would’ve grounded him for running with.

Oliver’s footsteps pounded behind him as Bruce locked himself in one of the hall closets, breathing heavily.

“ _Bruuuce!_ ” Oliver complained, banging his fists on the door.

Bruce let out a long breath. Oliver Queen was such a moron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! I honestly have no updating schedule for this book— I tell myself I'll post one chapter a week, but since I'm always two-ish chapters ahead, I end up posting a chapter like the next day :D (I'll try to be consistent soon haha.) I'd love to hear your thoughts on the book so far, and anything you want to see next!
> 
> xo Alexa


	13. Chapter 13

**_PRESENT DAY_ **

Dick trailed through the halls of Wayne Manor before reaching his youngest brother's door. It was perfectly polished red oak— freshly re-stained after Jason smashed a bicycle into its frame a few years back— because the "blood son" had wanted the room closest to Bruce's, and wouldn't accept anything less than excellence. Dick wrapped his knuckles on the hard surface, impatiently tapping his foot as he crossed his arms. After a few moments, the door opened and Damian stood there in a black turtleneck and pants.

"What is it this time, Grayson?" The child sounded cold and bored, hands clasped behind his back, staring at Dick in a way that said he wanted to be anywhere else but talking to him. "Did Koriand'r hurt your feelings _again?_ "

Dick scowled. "First, Kori and I work things out like adults— I don't get my feelings hurt."

"Right." He obviously didn't believe him.

"Second, I need your help."

"Don't you always?"

Dick took in a deep breath. "You just need to come with me."

"You want to find the photo albums I referenced the other night."

"Wha— no!" Curse Bruce for having a kid with the woman who ran the League of Assassins. Sometimes, dealing with a younger brother who could practically _smell_ when you're lying got irritating.

Damian hummed in disinterest. "If you're only here to lie to my face, then stop wasting my time."

"What are you even _doing?_ Wait, isn't it..." Dick looked down at the phone in his hand. "Monday? Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"I don't require socialization with classless, ill-tempered simpletons."

"W— okay? Then what are you doing right now that makes you so busy?"

"I've almost completed my study on biochemical pharmacology. I started the book yesterday afternoon. I figured it was a better use of my time than 'physical education.'"

Dick stared at him for a long moment. After four kids, Bruce had really just given up, hadn't he? He'd woken Dick up every day Monday through Friday without fail. Did he even _bother_ to check if Damian went to school or not?

"Just help me find the damn albums."

Damian smirked, striding past him and down the hall. "All you had to do was tell me I was right, Grayson. Was that so hard?"

Dick rolled his eyes. He had to get back to Bludhaven soon— he didn't need to deal with Damian's attitude.

"I looked through every shelf, but I couldn't find them," Dick explained as he watched the smaller boy walk down the stairs with an air of royalty, gliding over each one like it was choreographed. Knowing Damian, it most likely was. Dick had always preferred the banister when he was younger.

Damian let out a dignified _humph._ "It reassures me to know that I'm the only one who knows father around here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" They rounded the corner into another hallway.

" _Obviously_ , after I brought my awareness of the photo albums to father's attention, he moved them. Not that I can blame him, of course, I would do the same if I had _you_ as a child."

Dick choked out a disbelieving laugh. "Bruce did _not_ come home and hide them from me like I'm some nosy third-grader."

"I believe the more appropriate term would be _first_ -grader." Damian pushed the door open to the study. "And, evidently, he was rightfully so. You _are_ looking for them now, are you not?"

Dick scowled. Okay, so maybe he _was_ nosy. But isn't that what Bruce trained him to do? Be a good detective? Besides, he was intrigued by this mysterious "other life" Bruce lived, the one that involved the Elias family... somehow. The life that every single one of his brothers seemed to have at least _some_ inkling about but him.

Maybe this was what it was like for other people to learn that Bruce was Batman. Dick nearly scoffed. Just when he thought he had Bruce all figured out, after fifteen years with the man, there was apparently still more to learn.

"So what?" Dick finally said. "Aren't _you_ the least bit interested in this whole Bruce and Meredith Elias thing?"

"Hardly. From what I've gathered, they seemed to have been... acquaintances at some point. Personally, I think it's rather comical that father gets unsettled by her presence."

Dick chuckled. "That's an easy way to put it. The guy nearly blew a gasket when he found out that Tim was working with her."

"Drake's a pillock who can't follow direction." His youngest brother walked over to the large desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of black gloves. "If he can not learn the trades of big business without the help of Elias, he has no place running Wayne Enterprises. Father ordered that we stay away from her."

"But _that's_ the weird part!" Dick exclaimed, following Damian past large shelves filled with books. "Has anyone ever questioned _why_ we can't talk to Meredith? She's one of the most powerful people in Gotham, wouldn't Bruce want us to be friendly with her?"

"Perhaps he just wants to keep her at arm's length, considering her aptitude. I'd rather trust father's word than your pathetic, deluded fantasies, Grayson."

"It's not— _ugh_. Fine! Fine. I'll shut up about it if you can answer this question: what did Bruce like to do when he was your age?"

They reached the end of the long line of shelves, where a small reading nook was nestled in the back of the study. It had two plush, red chairs and a table in the middle with a small lamp on top. Dick had spent a few nights reading in there when he was younger, but he knew that Damian was probably much more familiar with it, considering the way that the child tore through every book in the library.

Damian paused in his strides, tilting his head ever so slightly. He didn't respond for a moment. "What does that matter?"

"Think about it— he started the whole Batman thing at twenty, right? So... what did he do before then? He didn't just _magically appear_ at nineteen to become a hero. That's almost two decades of unaccounted time."

"He attended the Academy."

"For twenty years? And even then, who did he hang out with? Did he play any sports? What was his favorite subject? We don't know any of the answers— at least, _I_ don't know, and I've been here the longest."

"All of that information is irrelevant to his position as Batman."

"And what about his _position_ as your father? Doesn't it bother you that this... _Devin_ guy, knows more about Bruce than we do? I just learned yesterday that _he_ was actually the one who taught Bruce how to drive, not Alfred."

Damian furrowed his brows in the way he did when he was in deep thought. He straightened his shoulders, stepping forward to one of the red armchairs and removing the cushion, setting it on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked as he watched Damian slip the pair of black gloves onto his hands. The child reached down, digging his fingers into the crevice of the chair and pulling what Dick thought was just the fabric, up. The tan cloth was wrapped around some sort of panel, disguised to apparently replicate the lining of a regular chair. Damian set the panel aside, revealing a wide, black safe.

Dick was nothing short of shocked. "How long has this been here?"

"Since I first arrived," Damian answered plainly, twirling around the knob of the safe and pressing a few of the buttons on the keypad. "I did some research on the manufacturer— I believe it was originally used for guns— most likely the doing of Thomas Wayne. Obviously, father would've disposed of those. It was empty the last time I checked, but it seems like an optimal spot for hiding books."

Dick was now convinced, he seriously knew _nothing_ about this house or his father.

The lock clicked and his brother pulled open the door to the safe. To no one's surprise, Damian was right on the money. Inside laid a few plain, black albums.

Damian plucked one out, sitting back on the discarded chair cushion. Dick greedily snatched the other two and copied his brother as he fell into the second seat.

"I didn't see this particular one last time," Damian noted as he studied the album.

Dick opened the cover of the one in his lap. He was greeted by pictures of a young Bruce, probably around the age of seven and looking exactly like Damian with blue eyes. Dick had seen Bruce like that before, mostly on the painted portrait of him and his parents in the master bedroom.

He flipped the page. Now images of a blond boy started to appear, with a wide, toothy grin, and his arms around Bruce in every picture. Dick furrowed his brow. There was another boy, older and taller, with brown hair and a big smile. Dick came to the conclusion that it was the man he had met yesterday in the kitchen— Devin Elias.

But who was the little blond kid?

In other pictures, there was a girl, and this time Bruce was the one who had his arms wrapped around her. She had brown hair and pretty blue eyes, always in a dress of some pastel color. He flipped the page and found an image of her kissing Bruce's cheek, who was beaming from ear-to-ear in a fashion that Dick didn't think the man was capable of anymore.

It was Meredith.

The album was filled with photos of them doing various things, and it looked so... _normal_ that it wasn't distinguishable from any other photos of regular kids, which was slightly terrifying. The final picture in the album was the four children, Bruce in the center with a cheap party hat and a black cape. Dick almost busted out laughing. How ironic.

Dick looked back up at Damian, who had surprise written all over his features. He must've noticed Dick's staring.

"I didn't realize father was so..." Damian didn't take his eyes away from the pictures. "Well-acquainted with Green Arrow."

Green Arrow. Oliver Queen. _The blond kid_. That was him, and the realization of that fact made these photos all the more wild and borderline utterly impossible to believe. That couldn't be real. Dick had very few interactions with the Star City vigilante outside of the capes and cowls, which was mostly due to the fact that Bruce couldn't stand the guy. Dick remembered when the rest of the League founders had to convince Bruce to let Oliver sit in on the meetings— the Bat wasn't very happy that week.

Dick picked up the next album. Bruce was a little older in this one, with a smile that only showed up every few pictures, but even then, it was just a turn of his lips. He seemed dark. This was probably after his parents had died. Oliver was only in one or two of these.

Meredith had started to get pretty, growing into what she looked like now. Her hair was dyed a few shades darker. She was usually at a distance from Bruce, with maybe a few of them standing next to each other or with an arm around the other's shoulder. Bruce seemed uncomfortable and Dick chuckled. He'd never thought that his father went through an "awkward phase."

Devin occasionally showed up, now obviously a teenager, much taller than Bruce but still looking ridiculous. Some pictures were obviously not forced— some were just random shots of Bruce sitting at the kitchen table or Meredith walking down a sidewalk.

Who was taking all of these? And why did Bruce keep them _and_ compile them in chronological order?

Dick closed the second book and set it down on top of the other. "When the hell did Bruce get sentimental?"

"It was Pennyworth."

"How do you know?"

'Well—" Damian paused, looking somewhat angry or jealous or a mix of both. "Well, it wasn't _actually_ father. This was all part of some plan. He would never willingly do... _this_."

"It kinda looks like he did."

Damian scoffed, tossing the album at him. "That's absolutely preposterous. Look at that and tell me that's the same man who goes out every night as _Batman_."

Dick opened the last album. They were now all teenagers, probably around Tim's age. He had never really seen pictures of Bruce as a young adult— it was weird to imagine him like that, and even weirder to see it in faded photos through plastic screens. He looked like Bruce, but at the same time, not at all. He was leaner, with messy hair and teasing eyes and a boyish smile. Most pictures featured Oliver— who was once again occupying almost all of the pages— and Bruce in Gotham Academy uniforms.

" _Oliver_ went to the Academy?" Dick questioned out loud.

"Keep looking."

Meredith was absolutely stunning— she had her hair dyed closer to black and cut shorter, with thin brows and lip gloss in every picture. If she was this age now, Dick wouldn't have hesitated to ask her out. Damian was right, she _did_ look even more attractive with darker hair.

There was a picture with her in a green dress and Bruce smiling next to her in a matching tie. It looked like a... like a _prom_. This was so unreal. _Batman_ didn't go to school dances.

Dick's mouth kept dropping as he flipped the page. Bruce and Oliver on a yacht in the middle of a teal blue sea, with open shirts and board shorts and what looked like martinis. The rest of the images were in a similar fashion: Oliver passed out on a kitchen counter, photographs taken by paparazzi with the two boys in tuxes as they entered a club.

There was one that stood out: Bruce in a red shirt with some crappy-looking Devil ears, Oliver sporting a crooked halo on his head and an arm slung over Bruce's shoulder. Bruce was mid-popping a bottle of champagne, with a grin on his face that matched Oliver's for the first time in the entire album.

They looked like stupid boys, flaunting their money with big smiles and nice cars and hot women that were probably way too old for them. Not like men who beat up criminals and worked on a team of elite heroes but couldn't spare each other more than a few words at a time.

There were some more of Meredith by herself, usually candid and taken when she wasn't looking. Dick imagined Bruce sneaking random pictures of the Gotham businesswoman in the Manor kitchen. Okay, that was too much. That was so weird.

He slammed the cover shut, staring at Damian who looked back at him with a disturbed face.

"Believe me now?" Dick asked, tossing the boy the album.

"This is... this is a setup!" Damian jeered, snatching all three books and shoving them back into the safe.

"A setup?" Dick repeated. "By who?"

The younger boy arranged the albums, probably in the way that they were originally placed by Bruce so the man wouldn't suspect anything. "By Pennyworth. Or perhaps father himself."

"I'm not sure _what_ all this is, but I don't think it's that."

"Or _Queen_ ," Damian whirled around and squared his jaw. "This is his doing— it has to be. That ineffectual Bruce Wayne rip-off. Probably drugging father the entire time!"

Dick pursed his lips. "Wasn't _your_ mother the one to do that?"

"Shut up!" The top of the safe snapped shut. "This is all a rouge."

"Maybe Bruce just had some wild teenage years?"

Damian was now visibly peeved. "He did _not_. Father doesn't get involved in nonsensical and outlandish behavior like you or like... like _Todd_."

The way he spat the last name told Dick that his youngest brother was now pissed. Damian— who prided himself on being "the blood son" and always ridiculed Dick and Jason for partying or liking girls or drinking— probably wasn't too thrilled to realize his father wasn't above acting like that out of his own free will.

"Denial isn't a good look on you, Little D."

"Don't call me that." Damian snapped the panel and the chair cushion back into place. He turned to Dick with a hard glare. "Perhaps we should pay Queen a visit— give him what he deserves for enslaving father into his schemes."

Dick scrunched his face up as he followed a marching Damian back through the bookshelves. "Uh, I don't think Bruce got _enslaved_ by Oliver Queen."

"Then we go find father and demand answers." Damian spun around to face him, stopping near the door of the study. He ripped the black gloves off and shoved them in the pocket of his pants.

"Because that always works _so well_ ," Dick doubtfully hummed. "Why don't we go to Tim first? The one who actually knew Meredith existed? If he doesn't know anything, maybe he can dig something up online."

Damian seemed to somewhat calm down by being given a plan of action. He straightened his posture. "I say we interrogate Pennyworth."

Dick shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. Whenever Meredith is brought up, he always shuts it down. Whatever happened with her and Bruce, Alfred was most likely a part of it."

Damian snorted emotionlessly. "Never thought I'd see the day when Pennyworth works against us."

"Yeah, well, never thought I'd see the day when Bruce willingly drinks shirtless martinis on a yacht with Oliver Queen, but here we are." They exited the study, heading back to the main living area of the manor. "I have to get back to Bludhaven— I've already been gone for two days— but I'll be here next week for that Incan gallery opening at the museum. In the meantime, corner Tim and see what he knows."

For probably the first time in his life, Damian nodded in agreement at the directions from Dick.

Dick stopped. "I don't mean that physically."

Damian frowned.

"And whatever you do, do _not_ let Bruce know we're looking into this."

"Do I look like a moron to you, Grayson?"

"You _look_ like a kid that should be in school. If you physically threaten Tim, I'm telling Bruce you've been skipping."

A low growl rose in the young boy's throat. "Very well. I'll just have to make do with verbal abuse instead."

Dick rolled his eyes, making his way back up the stairs to go and pack the few things he had brought with him. "Just don't let Bruce find out."

* * *

Oliver stepped out of the elevator with swift strides, turning a bright smile to the Elias Incorporated secretary sitting behind a gray desk. "Jan! Looking gorgeous as always."

He balanced the bags of food he was carrying on one arm, extending a cup of coffee to the redhead with the other. She gave him a warm smile, which was unusual from the typically stoic woman. "Mr. Queen, you didn't have to."

"I know, but I like to." He flashed her a wink. "Also, I'm hoping you could clear Meredith's schedule for me. I don't want the food to get cold."

The woman immediately frowned, setting the drink on her desk. There was the Janette he knew and occasionally loved. He gave her his best "puppy dog" look, tilting his head slightly, and after a moment, she rolled her eyes.

"You're lucky you're cute, Mr. Queen." She turned her attention to her computer screen, shifting the mouse to click on something. "I suppose I can move her five o'clock, but I can't promise she'll be happy about it."

"Eh, don't worry. I'll take care of the angry bear. You know I love you, Jannie!" he called over his shoulder as he walked down the hall to her office. As he neared the door that was cracked halfway open, he heard Meredith's voice drifting from inside.

"Janette, why does it say my five o'clock call just got—"

Oliver pushed open the door, grinning widely at the brunette and holding up the bags of food proudly. Meredith's face fell into a scowl, turning back to the phone on her desk.

"Nevermind."

The businesswoman sat back in her chair, clasping her hands. She gave him a half-hearted glare. "You can't just show up and cancel my calls whenever you feel like it."

"I brought Meditteranean," he explained, slipping his brown dress shoes off and setting the food down on the table in her sitting area. "It's from this new place a few blocks over. Thought you might like it."

He watched her sigh as he sat down on one of the green couches, pulling a takeout box from the plastic bag. She eventually stood up, sliding her heels off and walking over to sit across from him. She picked up the second bag and tucked one leg under the other.

"Gyros," she noted as she opened the white box. "Interesting."

"Hey, hey, don't forget the fries. I paid extra for those." He shoved a few into his mouth.

"Because God knows you can't afford them."

He chuckled, propping his feet up on the coffee table, ignoring her dirty look. "I was in the area, had some business to take care of uptown. Figured I'd stop by and see how you were doing."

She shrugged, using her fingers to pick up some fries, which moderately shocked Oliver. Meredith rarely ever ate food with her hands. "Busy. Had to take care of an HR nightmare with a Kord Industries representative this weekend."

"Oh, don't tell me it's that Patrick Jonas loser."

"That's the one."

He groaned. "He's such a douche. Mega asshole."

"No kidding," she snickered. "I got him fired, _finally_."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Well about time! Good on Ted."

"Yeah, only took me and his entire board of directors to convince him to do it."

He chuckled, sinking back into the plush cushion as he dug into his food. It was good to finally get a moment with Meredith outside of business— that didn't happen too much anymore with both of their schedules. He tilted his gaze up, studying her briefly. He was hesitant to ask her what he really came here for. Oliver considered himself a good liar, he _did_ have an entire city fooled into thinking he was nothing more than a party boy, but this was _Meredith_.

He decided just to go for it. "So, how're your adventures with the Justice League going?"

Meredith made one of her rare faces that said _don't even get me started_. "Interesting. They're all surprisingly more... _personable_ than I anticipated."

He furrowed his brows. Personable? Sure, maybe Hal and Barry came off as their usual comedic selves at the meeting, but Oliver wouldn't consider any of the League founders particularly personable. "What does that mean?"

"I just—" She caught herself, glancing up from her food. She looked decisive, biting the inside of her cheek before scoffing. "I'm sort of... _ugh_. Friendly... with Superman, I guess. If that's what you'd consider it."

He narrowed his eyes. Wasn't Clark _just_ mentioning how he didn't like Meredith?"

She read his unspoken question. "I'm going out with him and some other people tomorrow night. It's just drinks, nothing serious."

Oliver froze, not being able to stop himself from expressing his disbelief. "Drinks? What, do you know him outside of Superman, or something?"

He prayed she didn't give him the answer he thought she was going to say. Meredith had only been involved with the League for, what? Like, a week? Not even. There's no way Clark _already_ exposed his identity to her. Didn't the League founders just have a long discussion last week about how none of them would get close to Meredith?

"Sort of."

God damnit, Clark.

He played it off as pleasant surprise. "Really? Do you know everyone, then?"

He shoved his nervousness aside by pushing more fries into his mouth. She didn't seem accusatory, or remotely in a bad mood. She probably didn't know anything about him, right? But then again... it was Meredith, and maybe she was just playing cool and secretly knew everything.

"Wonder Woman introduced herself to me. I met Flash the other day."

He nodded slowly. Diana liked to blatantly make it known that she was Wonder Woman, so that didn't matter. Barry might've been a little trouble, but he didn't really have anything to do with Bruce Wayne or Oliver Queen, so he supposed that was okay-ish.

She chuckled, looking back down at her food. "Batman's also just... strange."

His heart nearly stopped and his blood ran cold and his entire body tensed up at the mention of the Bat. But she didn't look pissed like Oliver suspected she would've if she knew who Bruce was.

"You know Batman?" He had to will his legs to fall lazily again. "What happened to you thinking he was a creep?"

"No, I don't know who he is. And he's still a creep— he just likes to show up randomly in my office and lecture me about what I'm doing wrong."

Oliver nodded, forcing out a short laugh. "Weird."

Anger simmered through his body as he continued to eat his food, tearing off a piece of pita bread with slightly too much aggression. What the actual fuck was wrong with Bruce? (Well, there were _a lot_ of things wrong with Bruce, but only this one mattered at the moment). All the Bat did was bitch and complain and yell about how this was "Oliver's fault" and how the entire team needed to get it together because they couldn't risk Meredith finding out who they were, yet _he_ shows up in her office on the daily for a _chat?_ Typical Bruce— the rules always apply to everyone but himself. What a bastard.

"Yeah," she agreed. "He acts like he's so furious that I'm working with him, but I'm still going to the next meeting on Wednesday, so he apparently isn't that mad."

Oliver painted a smile on his face. Time to change the subject before he erupted into anger. " _Anyway_ , uh, I'm seeing this new chick! It's going pretty well so far."

"Really?" Meredith raised an eyebrow. "She's not just a one-night stand?"

"Nah." He shook his head. "She'd probably beat my ass if I did that."

She laughed. "What's her name?"

He swallowed another bite of food. "Dinah. She's blonde, smokin' hot, and drives a motorcycle."

"A motorcycle?" Meredith repeated with a grin on her face. "Doesn't sound like a high society kinda girl. Where'd you meet her?"

Oliver smirked, telling some fake story that didn't involve Black Canary totally drop-kicking him in the Watchtower training room, going on a mission together, and then somehow agreeing to a date. After another ten minutes of catching up with Meredith, Oliver finally stood, cracking his back with a groan.

"Well, I've gotta go. I have a call in ten." He walked over and put his shoes back on.

She furrowed her brow. "So when _I_ have a call, you can just interrupt it as you please, but you immediately need to run off when _you_ have one?"

"That's 'cause my call's important, Mare-a-licious." He grinned cheekily as he made his way to the door.

"And who's supposed to clean all of this up?" She gestured to the open boxes of food left on the table.

He paused in the doorway, glancing back momentarily. "You have arms, don't you?"

"Oliver Jonas—"

"Bye, Mare!"

He rounded the corner back down the hall, hearing her cursing him out from behind. He picked up his pace as he strode around the corner and fixed the collar on his blue shirt. Waving goodbye to Janette, he stepped back into the elevator and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, knitting his brow in irritation, finally stumbling upon the number he hadn't called in years.

As the elevator began to descend, he held the phone up to his ear impatiently. The muffled ringing filled the small space. After about five rings, a man answered the phone.

"Wayne Manor, this is Alfred Pennyworth speaking."

Oliver huffed at the all-too-familiar British voice.

"Hey, Alfred. It's Oliver Queen. I need to talk to Bruce."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here I am again with another chapter like two days after I posted my last one haha. Also, I think it's so funny that a lot of you in the comments are now referring to Gregory as "senior Elias" and I might have to use that in a later chapter lol. Thank you all so much for the support! Getting comments always makes my day :) Oh, and thank you for over 1000 hits!! Let me know what you think of the story so far!
> 
> xo Alexa


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